


In Moments Like This

by Emma_dghc



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_dghc/pseuds/Emma_dghc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life she leads here isn’t the one she wanted. Technically, it isn’t a life at all. But somehow, he’s given her the one thing she never let herself want—a Pond of her own. And in the end, the Doctor always comes, doesn’t he? River in the Mainframe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Contains mild spoilers for whole series. Rating will apply later in story.

**Chapter 1:**  

It’s very quiet.

            She almost expected to notice a humming, a thrumming—something to prove that she was here, that this is her reality now. But there’s nothing to hear, no mechanic whirring to notice. She stands at the threshold to her room, her diary clutched in her hands.

The bed is too big.

            Gossamer white curtains hang from its four posts. The huge white comforter billows across the bed and down to the floor. Too large pillows pile against the headboard. It looks like a dream. Like a night. Like that night in the TARDIS they shared so long ago—a conjured room, a honeymoon in space, laughter and giggling and awkwardly gangly limbs.

            She can’t take another step. She can’t lie down in that bed. She can’t.

            It’s too quiet.

            So she does what she does best. She runs.

            The kitchen is too quiet as well, but at least she can turn on the kettle, can bang gently through pots and pans. She could cook. She opens the enormous refrigerator and finds it fully stocked with everything she could want to cook—all the things he always forgot to have in the TARDIS kitchen.

            She closes the door and rummages through the cabinets. Those are fully stocked as well. The whole kitchen is modern in design but furnished with woods to match the rest of the building—a Victorian mansion they apparently all share together.

            Cal—Charlotte—showed them around all afternoon. The grounds, the river, the playground, the endless rooms of books were at their disposal. Charlotte could make them go and appear at will and fashioned five bedrooms for them. River figures Anita and Other Dave will only need one. And Miss Evangelista and Proper Dave looked pretty cozy as well. That would be nice for them, paired off in this endless eternity.

            She startles as the kettle whistles on the stove that looks about a hundred years old. The 52nd century burners, however, are anything but Victorian. She wonders idly if that was Charlotte’s idea or Dr. Moon’s, wherever he disappeared to.

            She opens cabinets until she finds the mugs. Front and center sits a large blue mug—TARDIS blue. Of course.

            She’ll have to think about asking Cal—Charlotte—to stop.

            Even as it breaks a piece of her digital heart, she takes the cup, can’t help herself. And there, in the next cabinet over, is her favorite tea. Does the little girl search their memories, or is the database a little like Sexy, all knowing and providing what she needs, even if it isn’t quite what she wants?

            She makes the tea anyway then settles back against the counter, staring through the doorway to the expansive sitting room across the hall. Victorian furniture, an enormous fireplace, bookshelves, endless bookshelves. When was the last time she read a good book?

            Her feet don’t move.

            She’s happy she’s here. She is. She gets this life, as it were. A half life, if she’s honest. And if she pretends, and hasn’t she always been good at that, she can trick herself into thinking this is just another stretch, just another expanse of time without the Doctor. The longest, perhaps, but he’ll come. He always comes. And she can’t begrudge him her life now—can’t rage against a version of him that didn’t know.

            And here there is sun, and companionship, and books. Here, she is not alone in a cell, or in a house too big for her, where his pillow always smells faintly of him, an imprint of a night spent weeks earlier.

            But his pillow won’t smell of him. And those weeks will pass without a whisper. Sometime, months from now, the Doctor won’t come, and she’ll still be here—no adventuring off, no vortex manipulator, no carving Gallifreyan into stone as a calling card.

            But of course she’s happy to be here.

            “River?”

            She turns and watches as Charlotte pads into the room, one small hand rubbing at her eye, the other pulling a sweater over her nightgown.

            “What are you doing up, sweetie?” River asks as the little girl shuffles over to stand beside her.

            “M’all done sleeping,” she replies.

            “All done? It’s barely,” River glances at the clock, which blinks back at her, 3am. How long as she been here?

            “I don’t sleep as long as Josh and Ella,” Charlotte tells her, yawning slightly. “I don’t need to. Why are you up?

            River smiles and reaches into the cabinet for another cup. A smaller, multicolored one comes to hand and she takes it down. “I don’t sleep much either,” she admits. “Tea?”

            Charlotte nods and watches as River restarts the burner. They stand in companionable silence as the water re-heats. River glances at the little girl from time to time; she’s totally content to stand there, her big eyes trained on the counter, obviously consumed by whatever inner monologue must run through a mind that knows every book in the universe. She has that far off look in her eyes, a ghost of the Doctor’s expression, caught up in memories, futures, stories that swirled through an all knowing mind.

The kettle whistles a few minutes later and River pours her a mug before handing it over. She adds more hot water to her own cup then turns to Charlotte.

“What kind?” the girl asks softly as she blows on the water.

            “Cinnamon.”

            Charlotte smiles brightly and takes a sip. “My favorite.”

            “Mine too,” River says lightly. “Why don’t we go sit. It’s chilly in here.”

            Charlotte follows River through the archway and across the hall into the sitting room. Together, they settle on the large couch. A red blanket appears over the back and River chuckles, spreading it out over their legs as they both curl up onto the surprisingly soft cushions. For all its Victorian appearance, the furniture is wonderfully cozy.

            “This place is lovely,” she tells the little girl after a minute of watching the fire in the huge stone fireplace.

            “Thanks,” Charlotte says easily. “It used to be a hospital, but we don’t need one now. Dr. Moon did most of it with me.”

            “Where is he?” River wonders.

            “I don’t know. He kind of comes and goes,” Charlotte explains.

            “I know that feeling.” Charlotte smiles knowingly.

“I used to live in a house for a while.”

            River considers the little girl, who looks so peaceful, but had a parent for a long time before River arrived. This little girl, who, like her, was left here, a loving man’s wish for a dying woman, a dying little girl.

            “Do you like it better here?”

            Charlotte shrugs. “Josh and Ella are fun.”

            “Did you make them?”

            “Once,” Charlotte says quietly. “I was lonely.”

            “That makes sense,” River tells her, rather at a loss for something more. She would have done the same, a lifetime ago, three lifetimes ago, if she could have. She fingers the edge of her diary. Loneliness—that’s one she knows, maybe better than anyone.

            “Would you read me another story?” Charlotte asks a few minutes later.

            River smiles and puts her mug down on the side table before burrowing into the couch a little more. She notices Charlotte shifting closer, a shy look on her face. River opens her arm and beckons Charlotte into her side, patient as the girl hesitantly obliges, until her small body is snuggled into River’s side. River puts Charlotte’s mug on the table with her own then opens the diary.

            “What to tell you, hmm?” she poses aloud, flipping through the pages. “Jim the Fish’s a good one. Oh, you might like the bone meadows. Asgard’s a little dull as a story.”

            “What about the TARDIS?” Charlotte asks quietly.

            “A story about the TARDIS?”

            “Just what it’s like,” she explains. “To go everywhere in time, all those places. Did he ever let you drive it?”

            River laughs and closes the diary, watching with a small smile as Charlotte strokes a finger down the broken binding. “Oh, sweetie, I was best at flying her.”

            “You were?”

            “She taught me, though, don’t tell my husband that—”

            “Spoilers,” Charlotte puts in helpfully.

            “Yes,” River agrees. “Spoilers, clever girl.”

            She feels Charlotte sinking against her and looks down to see her smaller face split in a wide yawn.

            “She’s much bigger on the inside,” River begins, carding her fingers through Charlotte’s long brown hair. She feels the girl relax a bit more and closes her eyes, picturing it. “All golds and oranges and silvers. There’s an enormous center console in the middle on a platform, with hundreds of levers. He’d tell you most of them are boring, but she gets rather mad at him for not using them.”

            “She?” Charlotte asks, her voice smaller, fading off with the edge of sleep.

            “The TARDIS is a woman,” River explains. “Well, was a woman, once, for a few hours; it’s complicated. But we always think of her as she, and she used to talk to me, very much a woman. Used to make fun of the Doctor, actually.”

            “Talk to a ship?” Charlotte mumbles.

            “Oh, well, I’m—how to explain—I’m the child of the TARDIS, really. She’s an aunt, almost, or second mother, I suppose. Very complicated, come to think of it.”

            But Charlotte is already asleep, her head in the crook of River’s shoulder, an arm across her stomach. River watches her sleep, tracking the deep breaths, so real and human, passing through her smaller chest. It’s hard to think, looking at her, that she, and River, and the house, and the lawn, and the sky, are all part of the mainframe. It’s hard to think they’re not real when Charlotte snuggles into her, smacking her lips, as much in a dead sleep as any child.

            She could be happy here. It isn’t the life she wants. And it isn’t with the Doctor. But maybe, in moments like this...

            The fire is nice, at any rate.

 


	2. Remembering

**Chapter 2:**

She lies down in the bed three nights later. The sheets feel like satin against her skin, the comforter like a cloud. Her head sinks into the pillow and a lock of hair falls across her face. She blows at it, too comfortable to move.

            But no hand reaches across to guide it back to her ear. No fingers stroke down her side. No lanky arm stretches across her stomach, snuggling up to her as if she’s a pillow, there exclusively for cuddles. No breath fans across her neck, no lips trail over her pulse. 

            She’s slept alone before, more nights spent apart than together, especially at the end. She used to sprawl across their bed at her house, taking up his unused space, a luxury in some weeks, a defense in others. But now, now she knows the other side will remain empty. There’s no escaping the cool expanse of sheets at her side. There’s no scent on her other pillow.

            There is no Doctor.

            She is alone in this bed, and it’s too big.

            She sighs and turns onto her side, staring resolutely at the door, ignoring the empty side of her bed. The fire flickers in her fireplace, the only light in her lovely room tonight.

            More modern than the sitting room, her room is pale cream with warm electric lighting and an enormous ensuite with a sunken tub and walk-in shower—a room suited for two, a luxury for one. She likes it, she does. But now, with nothing but the quiet crackling of the fire, it’s too much.

            She could get up, get a cup of tea, pad her way into the library. She could pass the night paging through books, reacquainting herself with favorite stories long past. But she promised herself she’d try to sleep tonight.

            It’s been days, maybe a week since she last did. Though, she wonders if any of her life counts here—her health, her age, her hearts. She’s a digital memory print with a digital body, real to the touch, but not. She probably doesn’t need to sleep here at all. The others will, a lifelong habit. But she’s always been a sporadic sleeper to begin with, and now, if she doesn’t need to, why bother?

            But she told herself she’d do this. She’d make it through this.

            She lasts three hours.

            With a heaving sigh, she crawls out of bed and hops across the cold wooden floorboards to her armoire. She clicks the light switch and finds half of her room bathed in soft light.

            The closet overflows with outfits, some she recognizes and will probably never wear here, others new and gauzy and flowing. She finds a soft purple robe and shrugs it on over her white nighty before bending down to find slippers.

            She laughs when she spots them, fuzzy blue things—TARDIS slippers. Whatever was that little girl thinking?

            Still, she wears them, smiles down at her toes as they wiggle beneath the fabric. Like the mug, she can’t not use them. This pain, ever present, this longing, it has been her life-long companion. How could she let it go, when it brings an unwilling smile to her face and brings her heart a mile closer to him, wherever he is?

            So she shuffles out of her room, headed for the kitchen. She stops outside the children’s room, an undeniable urge to check on them drawing her to the door, her hand to the knob. She twists it slowly and peeks inside.

            Josh and Ella sleep soundly, Ella’s hand wrapped around a plush owl, Josh curled up in a ball. She looks then to Charlotte and finds the girl’s eyes wide and trained on her own. They blink at each other for a moment before River comes back to herself.

            She motions for Charlotte to join her and watches as the little girl stumbles gracelessly out of her bed and shrugs into a robe, slipping her feet into bunny slippers.

            River closes the door after her and looks down at her little friend in the soft light of the hallway.

            “Did I wake you?” she whispers.

            Charlotte shakes her head and reaches out to take River’s hand. She about faces and guides River over to a door that certainly wasn’t there that morning.

            “What’s this?” River wonders as Charlotte shifts her weight from foot to foot, seemingly shy.

            “I know you don’t sleep much, so I thought you might like your own library,” she says as she pushes the door open.

            River gasps. The room is lined with books, wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling. She wanders inside, Charlotte’s hand still held in her own as she spins around, amazed by the scope of the room. It looks—oh, it looks like the TARDIS library, but with a different flare. The armchairs look like the ones from her house, large and plush and inviting. The couch matches, a deep red to the browns of the chairs, with a blue blanket that clashes fantastically.

            “It’s an archeology library,” Charlotte explains quietly. “With one set of shelves for all your other favorites too. If you think it, it’ll be there.”

            “Oh,” River whispers. An archeology library for her—a playground of stories and tales and facts. “Oh, Charlotte, thank you.”

            She looks down at the girl and finds her smiling. “You like it?”

            “I love it,” she exclaims, hauling Charlotte in for a hug.

            The girl stiffens in surprise then slowly relaxes. River feels her hands fisting in the back of her robe, her face pushed tight into River’s stomach. She cups the back of the girl’s head and looks around the room. She made this for her, a room all for her, so she has somewhere to go, something to do, when she can’t sleep.

            “Charlotte,” she prompts softly.

            Slowly, the girl pulls away, reluctant. River smiles and reaches down to cup her cheek.

            “Are there books in here you like to read?”

            Charlotte looks at her, surprise across her face. “Me?”

            “Well, it seems like you sleep as little as I do.”

            “But I’m—Dadd—Dr. Moon always said I should try to sleep, shouldn’t I?”

            Oh, is she stepping on imaginary toes and programmed therapists? That’s—not something she considered. “Well, do you ever sleep when you try?”

            “I read in my head,” she admits, half sneaky, half apologetic.

            River laughs and lets her hand fall to squeeze the girl’s shoulder. “Would you rather read in here?”

            “You’d let me?”

            “Of course, dear,” River says easily. “If you’d like to.”

            “Yes please,” Charlotte says immediately. “Thank you.”

            And then her little arms are back around River’s waist, head squashed into her ribs. She looks down and sees Charlotte’s eyes closed tight, a smile on her face.

            “Thank you, sweetie,” River replies, waiting until Charlotte pulls back of her own accord. “Now, what do you want to read?”

            “Oh, I can read on my own,” the girl says quickly. “You can read whatever you want, I know there’s one of my favorites on your shelf.”

            River smiles, watching as Charlotte darts away to the shelf. She pulls out _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ and scampers over to the couch. She hesitates before sitting, looking back at River.

            “That is one of my favorites,” River agrees, walking calmly around to join Charlotte on the couch. “Could I read it with you?”

            Charlotte lifts large eyes to River. “But—you can read anything!”

            “And I have lifetimes and lifetimes to do so,” River says easily. “Tonight, I’d like to explore the wardrobe with you, if that’s alright?”

            Charlotte nods and climbs up onto the couch, reaching out to spread the blanket over their legs. River helps her then scoots into the middle gesturing for Charlotte to do the same so they can share the book.

            With less hesitation, Charlotte leans into her side, holding one side of the book as River takes the other. To her surprise, Charlotte begins to read first, her voice strong and sure over the words.

            River smiles and follows along, relaxed and comfortable, here in her library with her little friend snuggled into her side. She can’t quite explain it to herself, but she feels drawn to Charlotte, comfortable with her. Perhaps it’s a way of reclaiming her childhood—of giving to someone what she never got—quiet reading and cuddling in the depths of night when she could not sleep. Maybe it’s the comfort of knowing that she is not alone now. Maybe it’s the joy of the child giggling along to a story as she adds in voices and tickles her.

            Maybe it’s merely the fact that Charlotte makes her laugh like Amy used to.

            Amelia Pond, the girl with the crack in the wall of her bedroom.

Charlotte Abigail Lux, the girl with a great big library in her head.

            And River Song, the girl with all of time and space in her head.

            What a trio they’d make. 

(…)

 

            “River!”

            River turns at the sound and smiles as Charlotte, Josh, and Ella bolt toward her, the others following in their wake. Their little bodies slam into her and they all topple backward, landing sprawled out on the grass, staring up at the clear blue sky.

            “Proper Dave says we’re goin’ on an adventure!” Josh exclaims as he rights himself, his eyes bright with excitement.

            “Do you want to come?” Ella asks eagerly, her red curls bouncing with her as she nearly vibrates in the grass.

            “I think we’re going to Alice’s tea party,” Charlotte adds, softer, but happy, her face split in a smile.

            River glances at the stream, her quiet point of contemplation this morning. She’s fallen into a routine; every morning, she wakes, or leaves her library with the sun, and wanders the grounds. On occasion, Charlotte joins her, but she usually leaves the little girl asleep on the couch, covering her with the blanket before tiptoeing out of the room.

            This morning, she made her way to the river and sat on the bank, her toes in the current, remembering. But now, in the face of such youthful excitement, and under the eye of her friends as they approach, how can she choose her solitude over the children?

            “I think that sounds like marvelous fun,” River decides, laughing as Josh and Ella cheer and jump up to sprint toward the approaching group.

            She stands and offers Charlotte her hand, tugging the girl up. She stumbles into River and giggles, running her fingers down River’s long white sweater. Though she’s wearing jeans this morning, she can’t seem to part with the sweater she arrived in. It is sinfully comfortable.

            “Good morning,” Anita greets as the adults meet them on the banks of the river.

            “Morning,” River replies, smiling at her friends.

            Anita’s hand is firmly encased in Other Dave’s, and each has a child swinging from their opposite hands.

            “Anita says we can go now,” Josh enthuses.

            “Can we?” Ella adds, looking up at Other Dave.

            “If River’s ready,” he says kindly, swinging their joined hands so Ella laughs.

            “I’m ready,” River interjects quickly so they don’t have to ask again.

            Miss Evangelista beckons them to follow, Proper Dave scampering to catch up to her. River smiles as she and Charlotte amble behind the line of Anita, Other Dave, Josh, and Ella. If Evangelista and Proper Dave don’t end up together, she’ll eat the Doctor’s hat. Oh, but which one? Are there any left?

            She wonders if he’ll get more now that she’s not there to shoot them.

            The thought makes her inexplicably sad and she feels Charlotte squeeze her hand.

            “Are you okay?” Charlotte asks, looking up at her as they amble slowly behind the group headed for the courtyard inside the Library.

            “I’m fine,” she fibs, putting on a smile, one of her talents.           

            “You don’t have to come,” Charlotte adds, swinging their hands back and forth in a pale imitation of the way Ella skips beside Other Dave.

            “I want to,” River insists, tugging Charlotte into her side so she can wrap her arm around the girl. “Just got a little melancholy for a moment, that’s all.”

            Charlotte nods. “I get that way too,” she says.

“I know. But let’s shake that off today, hmm? Let the Daves make us silly for a few hours,” River suggests, squeezing the girl to her. Charlotte squeezes back and leans into her as they clear the threshold to the courtyard, where miraculously, the Tea Party from _Alice in Wonderland_ sits in full splendor.

            She may not have all of time and space to explore, but there is something magical about living in books with the children. Their trip to Hogwarts had been something to see.

            She lets Charlotte guide her to a set of chairs near the end of the table. She helps Charlotte into hers, despite the girls insistence on being able to do it herself. The chairs are much too big.

            And then she gets swept up in the laughter and joy of the table, playing along as Other Dave plays the Mad Hatter, Proper Dave the Tea Mouse. Miss Evangelista becomes Alice, and the children laugh and shout along, Charlotte quieter than the other two, but enthusiastic none the less.

            River ends up narrating out of the book left at her elbow. Somehow she always ends up reading. She catches Charlotte’s eye as Other Dave takes over, reading the Mad Hatter’s lines for her. Charlotte grins back at her, delighted and young and happy.

            The afternoon passes quickly and all too soon, the sun begins to set and they sheppard a whining Josh and Ella out of the courtyard, leaving Miss Evangelista behind to clean up. River waits at the archway, watching as Charlotte makes her way to her, her eyes trained on the grounds behind them as Josh and Ella cling to Anita and Other Dave, who listen with rapt attention to a recount of the afternoon they’ve just shared.

            Charlotte’s eyes dim with each step away from the table Miss Evangelista is guiding back into the book—some kind of trick she must have learned in her time in the mainframe without them.

            “What’s the matter, dear?” River asks as Charlotte reaches her, all that joy, all that childhood blank from her face.

            “Nothing,” she says quickly. But her eyes stay on Other Dave and Anita, and River turns to find them on the ground, Josh and Ella climbing all over them.

            “Do you want to join them?” River asks softly.

            “No.” The wistfulness in her voice cuts River to the core, and she reaches out to take Charlotte’s hand.

            “You’re sure?”

            Charlotte looks up at her with her big brown eyes and nods, taking a step forward. River opens her arms and lets Charlotte collapse into her, her hands clenched in the back of her sweater, her face pressed into River’s stomach as she holds on tight.

            “Sweetie,” River prompts after a minute as Miss Evangelista turns to look at them, concern on her face.

            “I’m melancholy,” Charlotte mumbles.

            “Well, we’ll just have to do something about that,” River tells her, smiling at Miss Evangelista as she quietly passes them, leaving the courtyard pristine and green and empty behind her.

            Charlotte pulls away after a moment and goes to swipe at her cheeks, but River beats her to it. “What has you so melancholy?” she asks quietly as she wipes away the trails of tears on the little face.

            Charlotte shrugs and doesn’t meet her eyes. River waits her out, but the words don’t seem to come. “Why don’t we take a walk?”

            Charlotte nods slowly, taking River’s hand and following her out onto the lawn. Josh and Ella pull Anita and Dave in the opposite direction, shouting about the playground. River guides Charlotte out toward the stream and a bench she found the other morning.

            The grass is soft beneath their feet, wind whipping gently across the grounds. She glances up at the sky and sees clouds for the first time; they’re light and fluffy, but with each step, it seems more and more of them begin to cover the sky.

            River looks down at Charlotte as they near the bench beneath the large weeping willow and finds the little girl lost in thought, her brow wrinkled and her lip pulled between her teeth.

            “Shall we sit?” she prompts.

            Charlotte merely stares at the river. River tugs gently on her hand and brings them both around to sit on the plain wooden bench, the beams sagging slightly with their weight.

            Charlotte swings her legs, releasing River’s hand to curl both of hers around the edge of the bench, eyes trained on the water. River follows her eye line and sees fish swimming in a circle, bright red with white stripes. A moment later, they vanish, as if dissolving into pixels before being rushed away by the current.

            “Penny for your thoughts,” River begins lightly.

            “Do you miss it?” Charlotte asks without looking at her. River considers her for a moment. “Do you miss him?”

            Oh, well. “Every moment.”

            Charlotte bobs her head and kicks her feet. “Are you happy here?”

            “As happy as I was out there?”

            “Yeah.”

            River considers lying. Considers telling this sweet little girl that she’s happiest here, in the land of books, with no surprises, and no running, and no imperfection. Considers pulling the girl into a hug and promising that this world she’s built for them is everything anyone could ever want.

            She considers it, but as she studies the hunch of Charlotte’s shoulders, the white of her knuckles against the bench, the tight pull of her face, she realizes she can’t.

            “No,” she says softly. “I’m not. It’s—this is a lovely place—”

            “But it’s not the same,” Charlotte finishes for her.

            River nods and waits a moment, holding off for an indication, a gesture, but nothing comes. Her little friend remains staring at the water, and the clouds above them keep rolling in, steady, slowly blocking out the sun.

            “Are you happy here, Charlotte?” she asks as she curls a hand over Charlotte’s, gentling the girl’s grip on the bench seat.

            “It’s a lovely place,” Charlotte repeats.

            “But it’s not the same?”

            Charlotte shakes her head and slowly raises her eyes to meet River’s. “Before—before I saved everyone, I was sad,” she says softly. “And then there were all these people and it was hard to be sad. And I had a Daddy for a while.”

            Her smaller fingers relax beneath River’s as her eyes fall down to their hands. River waits, content to let Charlotte find her way.

            “And then everyone was gone, but then you, and Anita, and Miss Evangelista, and the Daves came. And it’s so nice to have people here, people who know,” Charlotte explains. “But sometimes I—” she trails off and River watches as that shadow falls back over her face.

            “Sometimes you miss the life you had before.”

            Charlotte nods and reaches up with her free hand to rub at her eye. “Sometimes.”

            “That’s okay, you know,” River says softly.

            Charlotte’s legs fall still. “I know,” she whispers.

            They sit quietly for a long while, Charlotte staring at the stream while River watches the clouds in the sky, tracks the way they thin and spread and eventually fall away, giving sight to the sunset. Their whole world exists in the mind of the girl beside her—a girl who misses a life she had so long ago, a phantom memory of family.

            Charlotte’s stomach rumbles a while later and she lets out a startled giggle. River smiles and reaches over to tap her nose, receiving a smile in return.

            “How about you and I go see what we can make for dinner?”

            “Okay,” Charlotte whispers.

They stand together and Charlotte takes her hand, letting River lead her back toward the Library across the golden touched grass, the sunset at their backs. As they walk, Charlotte slowly leans into River, burrowing against her until River wraps her arm around her shoulders. She feels the little girl relax slowly as they walk, and by the time they reach the Library, she’s slack and calm, a smile flitting across her mouth.

Together, they push the doors to their home open and step inside. As they near the kitchen, peels of laughter greet them. They cross the threshold and come face to face with disaster. Josh and Ella war whoop as they run around the kitchen, chased by Anita and Other Dave, each armed with a handful of flour. Proper Dave rolls dough at the counter and laughs as Josh tries to use him as a shield.

            River feels Charlotte hesitate for a moment, still against her side. Miss Evangelista walks by and hands River a bowl of flour with a wink. River grins back and bends down to Charlotte.

            “Don’t you think we could take them?” she whispers into her ear.

            Charlotte’s face slowly transforms into a grin, and River watches with relief as her little hand reaches in to grab a handful of flour. That relief turns to shock as Charlotte whips around and throws the flour into River’s face, giggling before she dashes off. River gasps, watching as Charlotte takes cover behind Anita, following her as she stalks toward Ella.

            River splutters and brushes flour off of her eyebrows and lips, watching the chaos in front of her.

            Well, she wasn’t trained in combat for nothing.

 


	3. One Good Cure

**Chapter 3:**  

“River?”

            River looks up from her sketch pad and catches Anita’s eye. She nods toward the floor and River shifts her gaze to the children, where they’ve sprawled out on their stomachs in front of the fire in the sitting room, legs in the air, crayons and pencils scattered around their own pads of paper.

            “Yes, dear?” River offers, not quite sure to which one of them she’s speaking.

            “What’s a weeping Angel?” Josh asks.

She feels a pang in her chest for a moment before she pushes it away. Lifetimes ago—that was lifetimes ago, and they’d be gone either way, and they were happy. They were. And her husband healed, over time, perhaps. But with her gone—no, not here, and not now, and not in front of the children.

She plasters on an easy smile and glances around at the other adults, gauging their reactions. Anita and Miss Evangelista have gone pale, and both Daves look stricken. But, honestly, it’s not like they’re going to come into The Library. Still—

“Where did you learn about the Weeping Angels?” she asks, a question for a question.

“We read it in your book,” Ella pipes up, innocent with her toothy smile.

“My—you mean my diary?”

“We just wanted one more story,” Josh exclaims, half indignant, half guilty. “And Charlotte wouldn’t tell us that one. She said it was too scary. But I’m not scared.”

“Charlotte, did I leave my diary in your room last night?” River asks, meeting the girl’s gaze.

“I didn’t read it to them,” she says immediately.

“But what are they, River?” Josh interjects.

“River,” Other Dave says softly. “I don’t think—”

“I just said they’re stone that moves when you can’t see,” Charlotte says quickly. “Honest.”

“But how can stone move?” Josh calls out.

“And why’re statues so dangerous?” Ella adds, feeding off her brother’s fervor.

Other Dave opens his mouth but River shakes her head. “The Weeping Angels are only stone when you see them,” she explains. “And if they touch you, they send you back in time.”

Other Dave gives her a reproachful look, but Miss Evangelista touches his shoulder. “Just another story,” she says quietly as the children mull over River’s words. Dave nods reluctantly and glances at Anita, who reaches out and takes his hand.

“But what’s so bad about that?” Josh asks. “Can’t the Doctor just go get you if you go back in time?”

River closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Rule One. “Of course he can,” she says, opening her eyes to meet Josh’s. She smiles, and it rips her to shreds.

“See,” Ella says, turning to Charlotte. “You could have read us the story! They’re not scary. They just send you back in time.”

Charlotte nods, as if in agreement, then stares into the fire. Other Dave immediately gets down on the floor and muscles between Josh and Ella, asking questions about their drawings, thoroughly distracting.

River can feel Anita’s eyes boring into the side of her face, but she ignores her, doesn’t want to talk about it or see the sympathy in her gaze. Instead, she looks down at Charlotte, who sits staring into the flames as if transfixed.

            “Charlotte,” River says, watching the way the girl slowly turns her head to meet her eyes. “Let’s make sure my diary always makes it back to my room, hmm?”

            Charlotte nods quickly then goes back to her drawing.

 

(…)

 

            The bed seems bigger tonight.

            She tosses back and forth a few times before huffing and rolling onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. Restless—she feels restless, with a weight in her chest she hasn’t been able to exorcize since the afternoon. And the empty space beside her only serves to prick at the corners of her eyes and squeeze at her lungs.

            If she stays in bed she’ll drive herself mad; all the wishing and waiting and anger and bitterness could boil over. And the damage—never let them see the damage. And if he can’t, if they can’t, she shouldn’t have to either.

            So she climbs out of bed and reaches for her robe, determined to somehow force all of it from her head with books and stories, and perhaps a shattered vase or two. She forgoes slippers, hoping the cold will help wrench her from her thoughts. Determined, she opens her door and nearly runs Charlotte over.

            “Sweetie, what are you doing up?” she asks reflexively, reaching out to steady the little girl as she stumbles backward, eyes wide and shiny.

            River peers at her, catching the quick tremble of her lip and the tight clench of her fists in her little nightgown. She brushes her hand through Charlotte’s hair and watches as the girl closes her eyes and tightens her jaw.

“Charlotte,” River says softly. Charlotte opens her eyes and a tear leaks down her cheek. “What’s the matter?”

“I—I had a bad dream,” she lets out, meek and almost ashamed.

“Oh, honey,” River sighs. She steps forward and wraps her arms around Charlotte, unsurprised when the girl grips her back, eyes screwed shut against her stomach. “It’s okay. You’re awake now.”           

“You weren’t in the library,” she mumbles.

“Oh, no, I was trying to sleep, but—were you looking for me?”

Charlotte nods slowly then pulls back, her face nearly blank. “You’re sleeping, I can go back.”

She moves to pull away, but River tightens her hold, shaking her head. Charlotte needed her, and she was lying pathetically awake. She considers the tired, scared little girl in her arms. Nightmares were always the worst—flashes of realities past, never quite dreams, and never quite memories. The number of times she’d woken, shaking from hazy visions of the Doctor sprawled out on a beach, dead by her hand, mourned by an older version of herself, then she would roll over and find the man himself looking down at her, a hand stroking her cheek, understanding flaring in ancient young eyes.

“Come on,” she says gently, guiding Charlotte back into her bedroom.

“But you—”

“Someone once told me there is only one good cure for nightmares, and it involves three things,” River tells her, ignoring Charlotte’s meek attempts to leave.

She steers Charlotte over to the bed and turns on the dim bedside lamp, the words flowing out of her, near and dear to her heart. “Light.” She turns down the covers and picks Charlotte up, chuckling as the girl squeaks. She lays her down in the bed and pulls the blankets up to her chin. “A warm, comfy bed.”

Charlotte looks up at her, dwarfed by the enormous pillows and barely visible beneath the fluffy comforter. River smiles and brushes the hair from her eyes before walking around the bed and climbing in on the other side. She scoots over until they share the middle of the bed together, leaving a small distance between them, giving Charlotte the choice.

“And a good cuddle,” River finishes softly.

“That’s all?” Charlotte whispers.

“I’d swear my hearts on it,” River replies solemnly.

After a brief moment, Charlotte scoots closer and lets River wrap an arm around her, cradling her into the curve of her body. Charlotte grips at the sleeve of her nightdress, her face pressed against River’s shoulder.

“What was your dream about?” River asks a few minutes later, when Charlotte’s grip relaxes and her head goes heavy against River’s shoulder.

“They’re not really dreams,” Charlotte begins and River sighs quietly, running her fingers through the girl’s hair. “They’re more like stories come to life. Does that make sense?”

“Stories from The Library?”

Charlotte nods and fiddles with the blanket. “It’s like sometimes I’m in my dreams, but I’m suddenly in a story or a history book, and that’s happening all around me, and I can’t stop it, and I can’t—they’re not the way dreams are supposed to be.”

“And you’re stuck watching it all happen from the outside.” She feels Charlotte stiffen at her side before completely relaxing into her, curling an arm over River’s stomach and snuggling in. “What did you see tonight?” River asks.

“The Weeping Angels,” Charlotte says quietly, a hint of true terror there in her voice.

River sighs. “This is why we really need to read my diary together.”

“No,” Charlotte says quickly. “I mean, I, um, I couldn’t sleep, but I wanted to try so I—”

“Oh, dear, you didn’t start reading about them, did you? And in your head, no less.” Charlotte merely nods. “What did they do in your dream?”

“I saw a little from your diary,” Charlotte admits. “But then it changed.”

“The Byzantium?” River asks, hoping, hoping that Charlotte doesn’t know.

“New York,” she whispers, and her little arm tightens around River’s middle. “But after Amy they took you, and the Doctor couldn’t go get you, and so you never came to me, and he was crying and the Angel got so close, and then I woke up.”

River feels Charlotte shake against her and bends her head to kiss the girl’s forehead. “I’m right here,” she tells her, struggling to keep the crack out of her voice—to keep that image out of her own head.

They hadn’t traveled together directly after her parents disappeared; she’d had a book to write, after all. But soon thereafter, they spent two weeks together, floating in the vortex, talking, not talking—their longest linear stretch together, where they both knew, matched up, the right age and the right time.

And to picture her husband without those two weeks, without the little bit of light they managed to push back into their souls—to picture a world where she never saw him again—it nearly cracks her composure.

“Did you miss them?” Charlotte asks a minute later. “Your parents.”

“I still do,” River tells her honestly. “All the time. But it’s…less now. I hadn’t seen them too often for a while before that, and now—now I suppose they’re both gone anyway, really.”

“For the Doctor too?”

“I—well no, I hope not. I like to think he’ll figure out a way, somehow. We thought once about going to New Jersey, or Boston, and taking the train to the city, but he figured his entire person probably wouldn’t be welcome in the city. And I didn’t—I saw them a few times, but at different points, earlier, before Manhattan—after—I couldn’t do it,” she says, letting her mouth run away, a strange relief, to share this with someone.

“I think he finds a way,” Charlotte offers quietly. “He always does, right?”

River closes her eyes. “Yes, he does.”

Charlotte cuddles closer, her body going heavy beside River, perhaps flirting with the edge of sleep. River cards her fingers through Charlotte’s hair and wonders. The Doctor always finds a way. Maybe one day he does go see her parents in New York; maybe he can change time. Maybe he finds a way to bring Brian to them, at least. Maybe he fixes the paradox. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

“Do you think he’ll ever come to get you?” Charlotte whispers, her voice weak and wrapped in sleep at River’s shoulder.

Her breath stalls. “I—Some days, yes, I think he will,” she lets out.

Some days. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. But thinking he will and knowing he can’t are two separate things. And even the Doctor cannot resurrect the dead.

But does she think he will? Does the stubborn, young part of her—the part that gave her regenerations to him—think he will? Does that part of her, the girl who grew up on Amy’s stories, who heard that he came for Amy after all those years? Does she just have to wait 14 years?

 


	4. Sandcastles

“What are you doing?” River asks.

Charlotte stands at the crest of a large hill, hands held out in front of her body, her hair blowing in the wind. She glances over her shoulder as River approaches and grins.

“Watch,” she says excitedly, then turns her face forward.

River steps up beside her and gasps. Below, at the base of the hill, the grass slowly turns to sand. River watches as it seems to blow forward, multiplying and growing until it suddenly stops. Beside her, Charlotte draws in a deep breath and then blows, fingers furling and unfurling slowly. The edge of the stretch of sand slowly undulates and deepens in color.

Water.

A sea erupts from the sand, shooting out as far as she can see, its waves immediately crashing onto the beach. A beach. They have a beach.

“Charlotte,” she whispers over the noise of the waves, the sound of the ocean—a sound she’d almost forgotten. “How?” is all she can get out.

Charlotte pulls her gaze from the ocean and looks up at River with a beaming smile. “It’s easy,” she says happily. “Here.”

She holds out a hand and wiggles her fingers. River takes her smaller hand and waits. Charlotte giggles and then a rush floods River’s mind—a buzzing, humming, enormous sound at the back of her head.

River suddenly feels more than sees the worn stone steps that sink into the hillside. Each step plops out of their heads and materializes on the ground, descending toward the beach, already lightly covered in sand and attached to a warped, aged looking banister.

Charlotte’s grip loosens after a moment and River feels the buzzing recede until it seems to fall out of her head all together, leaving her with only her mind and time and space. It’s oddly quiet, come to think of it.

“That’s—Charlotte, is that what it’s like for you all the time?” River asks as Charlotte looks up at her expectantly.

The little girl laughs. “You get used to it,” she says easily. “Now come on!”

River laughs as Charlotte toes off her shoes and dances from foot to foot, waiting for River to do the same. She slips out of her low, white flats and then grins as Charlotte nearly drags her down the steps.

They step out onto the sand, impossibly soft beneath their feet, and the rush of ocean air washes over them. It smells real. The sand feels real—their own little beach, here, in the mainframe.

“Charlotte, how far out does it go?” River asks, gazing across the ocean, tracking it’s unending horizon beneath the cloudy sky.

“To the edge, I guess,” Charlotte says, releasing River’s hand to run toward the water.

River grins and chases after her, catching her around the middle just before they reach the water. They stumble together, laughing as the waves flirts with their toes.

“This is amazing,” River tells her. “I’ve missed the ocean.”

“Me too.” Charlotte steps out into the water and flings her arms out wide as a small wave crashes over her shins, soaking the bottom of her dress.

River watches her for a moment, smiling softly as Charlotte indulges in the wonder of nature—a nature she made. Such a powerful little girl, and yet she is dwarfed by the sea.

“Why the sudden urge for a mainframe wide ocean?” she asks as Charlotte returns to her side.

Some of the clouds above them lift, letting pockets of sunlight shine through to glint along the water. Charlotte shrugs.

“I wanted to make sandcastles,” she decides, turning and pointing to a spot a few feet back from the water, where a bucket and a few spades have suddenly appeared.

“Sandcastles, you say?” River says, meeting Charlotte’s grin with one of her own as more sun begins to shine through the clouds. “Sounds like a lovely afternoon to me.”

Charlotte grabs her hand and tugs River over to the buckets. Towels suddenly appear beside them with a large sun umbrella. A moment later, both of their dresses have vanished into bathing costumes. River shrieks, feeling the clothes morphing on her body. Charlotte giggles madly and falls onto one of the towels, pointing at River and imitating her face, squished up with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Charlie!” River exclaims, running her hands over her modest blue two piece.

Charlotte stops laughing and stares at her, her head cocked to the side. What does the girl have to be confused about? She’s the one who went and changed her clothes while they were still on her body.

“What?” River grumbles as she adjusts to the new feeling. Of all the things that have been done to her over the years, wibbly-wobbly and timey-wimey, this isn’t really all that strange. Still.

“Charlie,” Charlotte says softly.

Charlie? What—oh. “It’s just a nickname. Do you not like it?”

She shakes her head, a shy smile on her lips. “No, it’s okay. I—it’s nice.”

River returns her smile and extends a shovel out to the girl. “Right then. What are we making?”

Charlotte looks down at the sand between them and narrows her eyes. “Buckingham Palace?” she offers, raising her eyes to River’s.

“Ambitious.”

“We’ve got all day.”

 

(…)

 

            By the time they traipse back up the stone steps, leaving their enormous, scaled sand model of Buckingham Palace behind, the sun is setting. River slips back into her shoes and laughs as she spots her sweater on the ground beside them, barely even surprised now; she bends down and picks it up, shrugging it on over her bikini top until it hangs down over the towel wrapped around her waist.

Charlotte does the same and not a moment too soon. Wind whips at them on the high hill and River feels the temperature drop.

            “Did you make it summer for us?” she wonders as Charlotte slips into her shoes.

            “Maybe?” the girl says with an innocent look before she sways a little on the spot.

            “Tired yourself out a bit, didn’t you, all that ocean building and weather changing,” River observes, laughing as Charlotte shrugs guiltily.

            She takes River’s hand and before River can protest, they’re standing in the bedroom hallway in the Library. Surprised, River blinks in the dim light. Charlotte can do that? A moment later, the girl in question falls into her side with a startled gasp, and River shifts to steady her, clutching at her little shoulders to keep her upright.

            “Alright, well, no more teleportation for you,” she mutters as Charlotte slowly opens her eyes.

            “Jus today,” she mumbles. “Not a problem other times.”

            “And he said my manipulator was dangerous,” River huffs, guiding Charlotte into her room and through to her ensuite even as the girl protests. “Bath time.”

            “I can do it on my own,” Charlotte says softly as River leans over and turns on the taps to her enormous, sunken tub, deep green and blue tiles splashing with water.

            “Oh, but my tub is much better than the one in the hall,” River says with a smile, tossing her towel into the hamper by the shower and holding out her hand for Charlotte’s.

            Charlotte hands it over then fidgets with the edge of her sweater, pressing one foot onto the other as she watches the tub fill. She lilts to one side after a moment and River takes two quick steps to support her.

            “Or perhaps a quick shower and we get you into bed,” she murmurs.

            “M’okay,” Charlotte says quickly, even as her eyes droop.

            “Does this happen often?” River asks as she reaches over and shuts off the taps.

            Charlotte shakes her head as she lets River guide her over to the large shower. River turns on the water then tugs off her own sweater, helping Charlotte to do the same before guiding her into the stall. She steers Charlotte over to the bench along the side of the wall and sits her down before moving away to take the removable shower head off the wall.

            “I can do it,” Charlotte argues feebly as River runs the water through her hair and over her body and bathing suit, washing away the sand, a quick rinse.

            “But it’s so much nicer when someone does it for you,” River tells her. “Oh, I loved getting my hair cut—someone else washing my hair.”

            Charlotte sighs as River massages her fingers through her scalp. “I could make a hair dresser.”

            “You’re not making anything until you’ve had a good sleep and some food,” River asserts as she steps away and makes quick work of rinsing herself off. Charlotte blinks up at her through heavy eyes, pouting. “Oh, dear, you don’t like being told no, do you?” River asks, laughing as she clicks the shower head back into place and walks to Charlotte’s side.

            “I don’t need to sleep, or eat,” Charlotte argues, even as she lets River bring her out of the stall and wrap a fluffy towel around her. “I’m—I’m not real,” she says, giggling against her will as River pulls the towel up over her face.

            “You are very real,” River says firmly, wrapping the towel around Charlotte’s shoulders and holding it in place. “And it wouldn’t do for you to go around fainting because you’re determined to make a paradise for us. We have lifetimes for oceans and deserts and salons. Tonight, you’re going to sleep.”

            Charlotte stares up at her, big brown eyes wide and nearly awed. Oh, how long has it been since someone told the child to go to bed for her own good? Surely her—well no, would an imaginary father really force you to go to bed?

            “Come along, Charlie,” River says quietly, taking Charlotte’s hand.

            The little girl follows obediently after her, wrapped in one of River’s big blue towels. She starts to head for the door but River guides her over to her own bed. When she turns, Charlotte’s mouth is already open, a protest on her lips, but River just smiles and plops the girl down on the bed.

            “I’ll run and grab you some clothes, alright?” she says, reaching out to smooth down a fuzzy piece of drying hair on the girl’s forehead.

            “I can sleep in my own bed,” Charlotte says meekly.

            “We’ll just wake you up, putting Josh and Ella to bed.” She squeezes Charlotte’s hand. “Be right back.” With that, she leaves the little girl sitting on her bed and walks out of the room.

As she rummages in Charlotte’s drawers for a comfortable nightgown, she hears a cough behind her. She finds a suitable nighty and turns around, biting her lip while Miss Evangelista leans against the doorframe.

            “Had an eventful day, did you?” she asks as River looks down at herself, slightly damp and in a TARDIS blue bikini. Well.

            “Charlotte made an ocean today,” she offers.

            “So I noticed,” Miss Evangelista says with a laugh. “She alright?”

            “I think it was the teleporting us back that wore her out. But hopefully she’ll sleep it off, and I’ll make her something when she wakes later tonight.”

            “You spend a lot of time with her,” she says, smiling.

            “She’s lovely,” River offers.

            “I think it’s wonderful,” Miss Evangelista tells her. “And she seems to make you happy.”

            “She does,” River admits, feeling slightly caught out now.

She’s noticed how Miss Evangelista watches them, how Anita and Dave seem to have adopted Josh and Ella, how she and Charlotte have formed their own bond, the two of them against the rest, apart from the rest. It’s strange, how they’ve paired off, how everyone has settled out, less a full family, more an extended one.

But she’s managed to avoid this conversation until now. She’s managed to skirt around titles and reasons and grief. And with an exhausted child in her bed, now certainly isn’t the time.

“Miss Evangelista—”

“Oh, dear, I’ve let that go on long enough, haven’t I?” the other woman says with a chuckle. “Call me Evie, dear.”

River nods, twisting the nightgown in her hands. “Evie, I should probably get back,” she says slowly, walking toward the doorway.

Evie steps out of her way and pats her shoulder. “I’m glad the two of you have each other,” she says softly, before walking down the hall and down the stairs.

River stares after her for a long moment before shaking herself. She walks back to her room, images of Charlotte sitting on the TARDIS console, of adventures in space with a little girl, of a life that never will be, flowing through her head.

But the melancholy lasts only a moment before she pushes the door open and smiles. Charlotte lies curled up on the bed under her towel, her mouth slack and open in sleep. River closes the door softly behind her and stands there for a moment, content. She pads over to the bed and sits down carefully beside Charlotte, reaching out to run her fingers through her hair.

Charlotte doesn’t even stir. With a quiet laugh, River changes Charlotte into her nighty and gets her situated under the covers. River smoothes her hand across the blankets, watching as Charlotte cuddles into the pillow, innocent and young and peaceful.

“Sleep well, sweetie,” she whispers before she stands and makes her way over to the wardrobe to find nightclothes for herself.

It’s only six but she isn’t hungry and figures she could wile away a few hours reading until Charlotte wakes and wants food. She certainly has no desire to face Evie right now to see that all-knowing smirk, nor to volley questions about the Doctor from Josh, or how she’s doing from Anita.

No, sitting on her loveseat with _The History of the Aplans_ and a red pen sounds perfect to her. After all, second to adventures with the Doctor, digs, and dinners with her parents, outsmarting textbooks has always been one of her favorite leisure activities. Never hurt that she and the Doctor always made it into a competition.

 


	5. Tracking Time

**Chapter 5:**

 

“Does it happen often?” she asks quietly, watching as Josh, Ella, and Charlotte shriek and run around the playground.

            Dr. Moon stands stoically beside her, hands behind his back. But he seems relaxed, almost at ease with her—a rare sight since their arrival. He comes and goes, as Charlotte would say, but it seems he goes more often than he appears.

            “It did when she began saving people,” he replies, equally soft as Charlotte glances at the two of them. They wave and she smiles before narrowly avoiding Josh’s outstretched fingers. He must be it.

            “And what did you do then?” River wonders.

            “Let her sleep, fed her protein—all the things you’d do for a sick child, a tired child.”

            “And it’s not dangerous?”

            “No, not now. Though, do try to persuade her against forming another ocean, if you could,” He says with a light chuckle. “Whatever possessed her?”

            “No idea,” River tells him honestly, smiling as Ella and Charlotte team up on Josh, trapping him in the tire swing and spinning him round so they can race off. Poor boy. Reminds her of Rory sometimes, competing with her and Amy.

            “She seems well,” Dr. Moon says, breaking River from her thoughts.

            “She is. A little sad sometimes, I think. Like having people around reminds her.”

            Dr. Moon nods. “I’m sure it does.”

She glances at him, thinking perhaps it does the same for him. “Thank you for speaking with her,” River offers, at a loss for something better. If the man would stick around, she’d try to get to know him. Always did like a challenge.

“It’s my pleasure,” he says, turning and offering her the ghost of a true smile before he fades away.

She stares at his empty air, a little shocked. She’s rather used to doing the disappearing, always with more smoke. The man is a bit unnerving.

“See, I told you it was normal.”

River startles and looks down at Charlotte. The little girl grins up at her, smug and a little sassy, hands on her hips. River chuckles and nudges her with her hip.

“Well excuse me for being worried about you,” she says lightly.

Charlotte’s smirk falls a little. “I—no, I meant—well I didn’t think—it’s not that—”

River takes pity on the poor thing and brings her in for a hug, suppressing her laughter. “Don’t worry yourself, dear,” she tells the top of her head. “Just making sure we can keep adventuring.”

“It’s just wishing,” Charlotte mumbles as she pulls back.

“Wishing,” River repeats.

“Yeah,” Charlotte says, her smile returning. She takes River’s hands and grins. “Wish for something.”

“Like what?” River wonders aloud. Certainly not anything she’d wish in the dead of night—secret whispers she pretends she never utters, never hears, never thinks.

“Food, sunshine, a place,” Charlotte provides.

“I—”

“In your head, though.”

“Alright.” So she thinks. What does she want? It’s a little warm. The children must be thirsty. A tray of lemonade, and perhaps some biscuits—that would do.

“See?” Charlotte prompts brightly.

River opens her eyes and laughs at the table that appears beside them, topped by a large tray with six glasses of lemonade and three tins of various types of biscuits. Josh and Ella immediately run over, followed by Anita and Other Dave, who have been sitting cozily on a bench along the far side of the playground for an hour.

“Charlie, that’s amazing,” River says softly. “I thought it was more—”

            “Complicated?” Charlotte supplies, smirking again.

            “I suppose,” River admits with chagrin.

            “I guess it can be,” Charlotte says, dropping her hands with a shrug before reaching for a biscuit. “But wishing is the best way. The ocean took more focus.”

            “I’d imagine,” River says as Anita and Dave reach the table.

            Dave snags a biscuit and picks Josh up with his other arm, spinning around in a circle. “Good one, Cal,” he says as Josh laughs and squirms.

            River notices Charlotte’s shoulders sink a little as she takes a glass of lemonade. But she smiles brightly at Other Dave and takes another biscuit. River reaches around her and takes a Jammie Dodger, a favorite she never could seem to kick, to her eternal shame.

            “Yes, this is lovely, Charlotte,” Anita says as she takes a glass. “Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome,” Charlotte says quietly.

            “Mummy!” Ella chirps.

            Charlotte goes still at her side and River nearly gapes, but Anita spins right around.

            “Yes, sweetheart?”

            “Josh and I wanna go see Charlotte’s ocean. Can we? Will you take us?”

            “Oh, yes, Mummy, please?” Josh joins in, dragging Other Dave over by the hand.

            “I suppose so,” Anita says slowly, carding her fingers through Ella’s hair. “If Charlotte doesn’t mind.”

            All four of them turn back to River and Charlotte, expectant children clutching at their parents.

            “Of course,” Charlotte gets out, a smile on her face. But River can feel the tension practically radiating off of her. “It’s off the hill near the side entrance to the courtyard.”

            Anita goes to say something but Ella and Josh begin pulling her away. Other Dave goes happily, running with the children and loving every second of it. River and Charlotte watch them go, silence falling over the playground in their wake. A moment later, Charlotte vanishes from River’s side, her glass of lemonade falling to the ground with a thump, spilling all over the too-green grass.

            “Charlie?” River calls out, spinning around.

            But there’s no sight of the little girl. River stands looking out at the grounds, thinking. Where would she go? The archeology library, perhaps, but it’s a trek to get back to their quarters. Maybe their bench?

            The beach seems the best option, but she’ll hardly be there with Josh and Ella and their parents running around. She closes her eyes and tries to imagine Charlotte, where she’d be, where she’d go. When she opens them, she half-heartedly hopes to find herself at Charlotte’s side, but to no avail. She remains firmly beside the playground and has to set out on foot in search of her little friend.

            She wanders the grounds, winding her way toward their quarters. Their bench is empty, the bank of the stream deserted. And as she walks, the sky fills with clouds, obscuring the brilliant sunlight and casting dim shadows across the grass.

            “Charlie,” she calls out. She gets the response she expects; utter silence reverberates back to her.

            She sighs quietly and comes to a halt as she reaches the river-stone archway into the Library. She spins around and gazes out at the grounds, dim and dreary under the cloud cover.

            “Where are you?” she mutters to herself.

            A sniffle echoes through the halls and River turns around, peering into the shadows. She pads her way down the corridor, following around the bend until she spots Charlotte. The little girl sits curled up on the bench seat in one of the alcoves, obscured by shadows. She blinks up at River as she approaches, her cheeks stained with tears and her eyes large and tired.

            “Sweetie,” River says softly, sitting down beside her. “Charlie, dear, what’s the matter?”

            Charlotte rubs at her eyes for a moment before wiping her cheeks, her body held away from River’s as she plasters on a wavering smile. “Got silly,” she mumbles. “But I’m better now.”

            She goes to hop off the bench but River stalls her with a hand on her knee. “Charlie—”

            Charlotte shakes her head, giving River a more convincing smile. “I’m fine, really. Just confused me a little. I didn’t think Josh and Ella would, well, that Anita and Other Dave would—I was surprised.”

            River knows a lie when she sees one. Having spent a lifetime lying to the important people in her life, a lifetime listening to lies fall from a lover’s lips, a lifetime of knowing half of her everything was mixed up and scrambled and full of holes, River can spot the tightness around Charlotte’s eyes. She can see the pull of her lips and the set of her jaw.

            But for the life of her, she doesn’t know quite how to fix it.

            “Really,” Charlotte insists, dislodging River’s hand to hop down to the floor. “I’m fine.”

            She has no choice but to relent—has no way to fix Josh and Ella choosing Anita, nor Anita and Dave’s choosing them. “Alright, sweetie,” she says, internally cringing when Charlotte’s grin widens even as her eyes dull. “How about we go make something lovely for dinner, hm?”

            Charlotte nods eagerly and takes River’s hand the moment she stands. And if the girl clutches her a little tighter, and River keeps her by her side a little more tonight, neither of them mentions it.

 

(…)

            River stumbles across Charlotte in the early hours of the morning, just as sunlight begins to filter through the light curtains in the living room. They cast the space in a warm, hazy white light, and River stares at the little girl, sitting in one of the large, red armchairs, dwarfed by the chair with her legs pulled up to her chest, her chin on her folded arms.

            “Morning,” she says softly, padding into the room as Charlotte looks up at her. “What are you doing all by yourself?”

            “I woke up,” Charlotte offers.

            “Ah.” River makes her way to the armchair and reaches out to smooth a hand through Charlotte’s hair. “And you didn’t feel like company?”

            “I thought you’d be sleeping,” Charlotte mumbles.

            “Darling, I’m never sleeping at this hour.” Charlotte avoids her eyes. “And you’re always welcome to wake me if I am.”

            “You should sleep,” Charlotte protests.

            “And so should you,” River shoots back, smiling as Charlotte bites at her lip. “Even if you couldn’t sleep, what are you doing in here without a book or a sketch pad?”

            “I didn’t feel like doing anything,” Charlotte says, finally looking up to meet her eyes. “My mind is all messy.”

            “Messy, hm?”

            Charlotte shrugs and glances away again, her eyes unfocused. River sighs and looks around for something for them to do. Sometimes walking helps a messy mind, but it’s early yet, and chill, and a walk doesn’t seem the best remedy. She doesn’t want a book, doesn’t want to draw, and obviously her melancholy exile hasn’t done anything for her mind.

            “We don’t have a television,” River announces, laughing slightly as Charlotte looks up at her with an arched eyebrow. “I know that, of course. But why don’t we? You had one at your other house.”

            Charlotte nibbles on her lip. “I—no one asked, and I—” she trails off and scans the room with her eyes. “It would look odd in here.”

            “Doesn’t have to be here,” River decides. “But I think cartoons might be best this morning, don’t you?”

            Charlotte’s eyes light up and River smiles, holding out a hand for the girl as she clambers out of the chair. Charlotte squeezes her hand and together they leave the living room, pausing in front of the archway to the kitchen.

            “Cereal or scones?” River asks, laughing as Charlotte gapes up at her.

            “For upstairs?”

            “Oh, dear, have you never eaten scones in your jammies while watching telly on a Saturday?”

            “Have you?” Charlotte asks.

            River blushes and nudges at her little friend as Charlotte giggles. “I have eaten in bed before, thank you.”

            “Not to cartoons,” Charlotte mutters cheekily as she follows River into the kitchen to get their snack.

            “I’ve watched cartoons in bed,” River asserts. “Loads of times.”

            “On the TARDIS?” Charlotte asks, handing River the plate of scones to put on their tray table.

            “No,” she says as she pours them drinks. “We watched telly in the den on the TARDIS. I had one at home though. Got rather fond of falling asleep to it, actually, after Storm—once I’d moved in.”

            Charlotte nods and smiles, following as River walks up the stairs with their tray table. “With the Doctor?” Charlotte whispers as they clear the landing and walk down the hall toward River’s room.

            “Sometimes,” River tells her as she nudges her door open and walks through, trusting Charlotte to shut it for her.

            She stops in the middle of the room, staring at the enormous, nearly wall-sized television plastered above the mantle across from her bed.

            “Charlie,” she lets out.

            “Too much?”

            “Entirely.”

            “Sorry,” Charlotte says, her voice completely unapologetic. “Something smaller?”

            “Nothing bigger than you,” River insists, regaining her composure to walk across the room and place the tray on the middle of her bed. “Honestly.”

            Charlotte giggles and turns back to the armoire while River climbs into bed. She glances at the new television and smiles. There, a respectable, if slightly over-large classic set, with what looks like HD and some kind of fancy disk drive.

            “It’s simple,” Charlotte asserts as she climbs in next to River, the tray table between them.

            “Sure it is,” River says archly, passing a scone over to Charlotte. “Remote?”

            “Don’t need one.” Charlotte merely points at the television and it starts up, the sounds of _Tom and Jerry_ coming to life just before the picture pops up.

            “And for those of us without a wish link to the mainframe?” River wonders as she settles back. God, when was the last time she sat in bed and watched telly?

            “It’ll work for you too,” Charlotte offers with a small shrug.

            “Will it now?” River replies, peering at the television. “So if I wanted to watch, say, the History Channel from New New Earth, I would just—” she directs her mind at the television and the screen instantly changes, bringing up a biography on Winston Churchill, of all people.

            “Ugh,” Charlotte groans, quickly switching them back. “Why that?”

            “Why not? History is interesting.”

            “You’ve met him!” Charlotte protests, nipping her hand out for a stray chocolate chip on their tray.

            “Doesn’t mean I know everything about him,” River argues with a laugh as she snuggles into her pillow.

            “You played cards with him and the Doctor.”

            River glances at Charlotte and hides a laugh at the indignant look on her face. “He had a rubbish poker face and ticked his fingers when he had a good hand,” she offers, letting go and giggling as Charlotte rolls her eyes and settles into the bed.

            “Tom and Jerry are better,” she grumbles.

            “Better than Winston Churchill?”

            “Better than the New New Earth biography!”

            River considers switching them back, just to rile her up, but something about the comfort of their little squabble stops her. Instead, she takes a bite of her scone and cuddles into the bed, smiling as Charlotte shifts over to lean against her side. She’s missed arguing over the telly and laughing like this.

            She did it once or twice with Amy when she’d stayed over and Rory had gone to work. It had been strange, but fun—a pale imitation of their childhood, when they’d climb into one of the big empty beds at Amelia’s house and watch movies all day, surrounded by candy and giggling about boys.

            “That wouldn’t work,” Charlotte exclaims, bringing River out of her thoughts and back to the ridiculous cartoon on the television.

            “Well, it’s a cartoon.”

            “But if he really ran into a frying pan, he’d have a concussion and wouldn’t an iron kill Tom?”

            “You can’t apply logic to Tom and Jerry,” River offers with a laugh.

            “Well, it’s silly,” Charotte says, giggling.

            “And so are you.”

            “Takes one to know one.”

            “Cheeky.”

            Charlotte merely smiles and cuddles against her, eyes trained on the television. She looks down at her little friend and finds her face relaxed for the first time in days. River brushes a hand through Charlotte’s hair and smiles as the girl sinks against her, her head going heavy on River’s shoulder.

River decides that every Saturday should be spent watching cartoons in bed. It’s so hard to track time; she has no idea how long she’s been here. Is today a Saturday?

            She should start keeping a calendar.            


	6. Saving People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slight formatting problems. I don't know how to get the Rich Text to either indent all of my paragraphs or align them all to the left.

**Chapter 6:**

            “Incoming!”

            River turns and laughs, holding her pan high over her head as Josh and Ella streak into the kitchen, dodging around her legs as they slip and slide on the tiled floor. Charlotte sprints through a moment later, all three of them giggling and falling over each other.

            “What have you been up to this morning?” River asks them as she gets the pan down onto the counter and reaches out for a spatula to begin divvying up the pasta for lunch.

            “We—we’re playing tag with Other Dave,” Charlotte pants out just as Anita and Dave burst through the doorway, panting. “But they got…caught up.”

            River takes in her friends’ clothing, smeared and covered with some kind of viscous, brown liquid. “Caught up in what, exactly?”

            “A swamp,” Charlotte says innocently, shifting from foot to foot with barely withheld glee.

            “A swamp!” Other Dave repeats. “She made a bloody swamp.”

            “Language,” Anita scolds with a laugh. “Charlotte, could you?”

            Charlotte nods, and a moment later, Dave and Anita stand in clean white clothes, their hair properly coiffed. Anita giggles while Dave shudders, picking at his clothes.

            “What’s it been, a year, a few? Never gets more normal,” he grouses as he walks into the kitchen and ushers Josh and Ella into their seats. “Really not fair there, Cal,” he says as Charlotte follows River and Anita to the table.

            “But it’s fun,” Charlotte says impishly. “What’s the point of having power if I don’t use it?”

            “And she cleans up so well,” River adds, winking at her little friend.

            Charlotte beams up at her as River places a plate of pasta down in front of her, reaching across the table to give two to Josh and Ella as well. Anita brings the rest over, and soon they’re all happily laughing around the table, pasta and cheese smeared on Josh’s cheeks.

            “Sorry we’re late,” Proper Dave says as he and Evie come through. “Lost track of time.”

            “’Course you did,” Anita mutters to River. They share a smile as Evie grabs plates, a light flush on her cheeks. “Been out walking along the river again, were you?” Anita asks as Evie sits down.

            “It’s a lovely morning,” she replies with a shrug, meeting River’s eyes for a brief moment before looking down at her plate.

            They’re disgustingly adorable. Charlotte nudges River’s elbow then glances significantly across the table to where Proper Dave has taken Evie’s hand. River smiles and meets Charlotte’s eyes. The girl positively beams at her.

            “Would you like the river to be longer?” Charlotte asks across the table. “I could make a valley or something, give you more than a mile to wander.”

            “Oh, no, dear,” Evie says hurriedly, glancing at River. “It’s lovely as it is.”

            “I won’t break,” Charlotte whines. “River, why did you tell her I’d break?”

            “I did no such thing,” River says quickly. “But Evie’s right, dear, the river is fine as it is. Maybe a walking path instead, hm?”

            Charlotte eyes her skeptically. Of course she told Evie about Dr. Moon’s advice, and they agreed that having Charlotte over-exert herself wasn’t worth it. But, for all her knowledge and clarity, Evie still lacked a bit of subtlety from time to time.

            “If you’re looking for a project, Cal, Anita and I have been wanting to ask you something,” Other Dave pipes up.

            River notices Anita shoot him a glare but Charlotte perks up beside her, eager for the challenge. “What is it?”

            Other Dave glances at Anita and River watches as they have a silent conversation. Josh and Ella look between them excitedly, and River feels that tingle against the back of her neck—the same tingle she’d get with the Doctor before a revelation, for better or worse.

            “Dave and I were wondering,” Anita begins, hesitant but expectant all the same. “Well, have you always lived here?”

            Charlotte furrows her brow and glances at River before looking back at Anita. “No, I mean, when I saved everyone, there were lots of houses, so I lived in one of those with my…well, with the dad I made up.”

            River catches Evie’s eye across the table, a mirrored tight-lipped smile on her face.

            “Did you make the houses?” Other Dave wonders.

            “Yeah,” Charlotte says slowly. “But they were all the same, just different colors. There were so many people, I couldn’t make them any better. Too many, too fast.”

            River runs a hand through Charlotte’s hair almost without thinking about it, struck by the image of this little girl, trying to build a village with nothing but her imagination and a wish.

            “Would you—well, Anita and I were thinking that maybe it would be nice to have a bit more, ah, space, you know? And we wanted to know if you would mind making us a house?”

            “With a big back yard,” Josh adds with glee. Dave smiles down at him while Anita shakes her head, holding back her own smile.

            “And a trampoline,” Ella pipes up. “Please, Charlotte?”

            River glances down at Charlotte and finds her sitting with wide eyes, emotions passing rapidly across her face, but muted in the twitch of her mouth, the tightness of her eyes, the tiny furrow of her brow.

            “We were just thinking that we must be awfully loud,” Anita says tentatively. “And it might be nice to be somewhere with a little more light, not that this isn’t lovely,” she add quickly, gesturing to the kitchen and ensuing quarters. “It is, it truly is. And we are so very grateful that you were willing to—”

            “I’ll do it,” Charlotte interrupts, her voice a touch higher than usual, but otherwise calm, even content.

            “You will?” Anita and Dave ask at once.

            “Of course. I think it’s lovely that you want to have your own house,” Charlotte says, all innocence and light. But she’s not. River can feel it radiating off of her—if only she could decide what “it” was. “Would you like one too?” she asks.

            River follows her gaze to Evie and Proper Dave, who stare at her, open mouthed. “That would, well, sweetie, that’s very lovely of you to—” Evie begins.

            “It’s no trouble,” Charlotte insists, a little too quickly, a little too loud. “Everyone can have their own house. And we’ll have dinners every week, or something. And you can have a big porch with a view, right? Of the river, maybe? And Anita, you and Other Dave and Josh and Ella can be near the playground, so it’s right there. With a swing on the back deck, and Ella’s trampoline in the backyard and lots of trees. I could add a pool, would you like a pool?”

            Josh and Ella break out into cheers, babbling excitedly while the adults stare at Charlotte. The poor girl has gone slightly pale, that smile stretched, plastered tight across her face.

            “Charlie,” River says quietly, brushing a hand down her arm. “Are you alright?”

            “Of course I am,” she says instantly, meeting River’s eyes for a nanosecond before she stands up. “Are you ready?”

            “What, now?” Anita lets out.

            “It won’t take long,” Charlotte insists, nearly vibrating as she waits for everyone to stand up. “We’ll make yours first.”

            “Charlie,” River prompts, gently tugging the girl toward her so they can see eye to eye. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this? It won’t be like making the other houses. I’m sure Anita and Dave have ideas in mind.”

            “They’ll do it through me,” Charlotte replies immediately. “And I’m fine. I won’t break.”

            “I know,” River says slowly. “I just don’t want you to spend the next three days in a shut down sleep.”

            Charlotte merely shrugs and pulls away from her before River can get another word in. Instead, she ends up following after Anita as she walks behind Other Dave, Josh, and Ella, who take turns excitedly shouting out things they want in the house as Charlotte leads everyone out of their quarters and onto the grounds.

            “Do you really think this is wise?” Evie asks, striding up to walk beside River as they follow the group around the Library and toward the playground.

            River glances up at the sky, full of thin, dark clouds that swirl in complicated patterns, casting shadows across the grass. “No,” she says softly. “But I can’t stop her.”

            “They could have asked her in private,” Evie mumbles as Proper Dave joins them.

            “I think they were waiting for an opportunity.” She doesn’t approve either, but that won’t help anyone at the moment. It certainly won’t keep Charlotte from fulfilling their wishes. “They want a family,” she lets out a minute later.

            “And Charlotte?” Evie wonders as they watch the girl come to a stop a few hundred feet from the playground.

            She reaches out for Dave and Anita’s hands, talking quickly up at them as Josh and Ella cling to their free hands.

            “Will do whatever we want, I think,” River says, watching with a heavy weight in her chest as a house begins to take shape in front of the little family.

            A huge front porch, two stories, cedar shingles—the house rises from the ground up, shimmering into existence until it sits solidly on the grass. Trees sprout out of the grass around it, two large oaks on either side of the porch. A stone path erupts out of the ground and meanders toward the playground, flowers and bushes lining the edges.

            River shifts her gaze to the group gathered at the front steps. Josh and Ella abandon their parents and sprint up the steps, peeking into the windows for a moment before racing around the wrap-around porch to get to the backyard.

            “There’s a pool,” Charlotte says, her voice carrying softly across the lawn to them. Dave immediately drops her hand and takes off after the kids.

            “Thank you, Cal,” he calls out as he disappears behind the house.

            Anita releases Charlotte’s hand and talks to her softly for a moment before following after her family, leaving Charlotte standing alone on the front lawn, her small figure dwarfed by the house in front of her. They watch as her shoulders sag for a brief moment, before she spins around, a grin on her face as she takes off toward them.

            “Come on,” she chirps, grabbing Evie’s hand to haul her off in the opposite direction, toward the bench by the bank of the river.

            River and Proper Dave follow after them, listening as Charlotte asks question after question about size and shape and color.

            “We don’t need it,” Dave says quietly, his shoulder brushing River’s. “I mean, it’s amazing of her, really, but we just…don’t.”

            “I know.” She takes Dave’s hand for a moment, smiling. “But it’ll be nice all the same, yeah? A whole house for just the two of you.” She laughs as his cheeks flush and he squeezes her hand.

            “Thank you,” he says as they catch up with Evie and Charlotte, who stand a ways back from the river, staring at an empty patch of lawn, fifty feet from a large, shady willow tree.

            River blinks at him, confused. Charlotte calls him over before she can think of a response, and she stands watching as he takes the girl’s outstretched hand. A moment later, a quaint stone cottage rises from the earth with a rounded green door and a single upper room. A small chimney pops out of the roof and a low deck rises to meet the steps, adorned with a worn, wooden railing and a small loveseat beneath the living room window. It’s lovely, and small—perfect for a young couple.

            “Charlotte,” Evie says softly as their hands drop. “This is amazing.”

            “Thank you, Charlotte,” Dave adds, both of them looking down at the little girl.

            “You’re welcome,” she says, her voice tight. “I hope you like it, and you’ll still come visit.”

            “Of course we will,” Evie says quickly. “And you’re welcome to come visit us if you’d like. Even spend the night if you want,” she adds.

            Charlotte shakes her head roughly. “No, no, I can just pop back to my room, no trouble. But thank you.”

            “Well, you’re always welcome,” Evie repeats, and River can sense the urgency in her voice, even as Charlotte brushes it off. “We’re so grateful to you, Charlotte.”

            Charlotte simply smiles and then nudges both of them toward the house. “Go look!”

            Dave and Evie look back at River for a moment before they turn and walk up the steps to their new house hand in hand. Charlotte watches them go until they disappear inside, and River watches Charlotte. Her small shoulders quake for a moment, her hands in fists by her sides, but she spins around, and there is that same, wide, heartbreaking smile on her face.

            “Would you like a house, River?” she asks, walking over with measured steps, as if every single footfall takes effort. “I can make you one.”

            “Oh, Sweetie,” River says quietly. “I don’t need a—”

            But Charlotte’s hand snags her own, and then she’s standing on the hill overlooking the ocean. She lets out a startled breath and looks down at Charlotte as she stares out at the water, her face blank and tight.

            “Charlie,” she starts softly.

            “Do you want a porch?” Charlotte asks, snapping up to meet her gaze. “Or a back porch, or a little garden? A garden, and a swing,” she mutters to herself. “And a big kitchen.”

            “Charlotte,” River insists, crouching down so she can look up at her. “I don’t need anything. I love my room in the Library.”

            “But a house is better,” Charlotte protests, her voice another touch higher. Her eyes glisten. “Everyone gets a house, and a life, and that’s—that’s what it should be. That’s what saving people is.”

            “Honey,” River insists, reaching out to take her hands. “You already saved us. And I have a life here. A lovely life.”

            A shiver ripples out from Charlotte’s hands, pulsing through her body, and River closes her eyes as she hears the creak of wood and the shift of grass. She knows, before she even turns to look, that her house will be there, overlooking the ocean. Her house, pale blue with TARDIS blue window trimming and a broken door knocker, is sitting beside them.

            She slowly opens her eyes and turns her head to take in the house. It’s exactly the same, down to the broken swing on the oak tree with the burn mark on the front lawn; he once “parked” the TARDIS on her swing and singed her tree with a little extraterrestrial sludge that had glommed on in flight, and regardless of many promises to fix it, he never did. She thinks he secretly liked that he’d marked her home, despite the fact that she ended up explaining it to various hims over time. She came to like it herself.

            “See,” Charlotte says quietly. “You like it.”

            “It—yes, dear, I do. But I don’t need this,” she says, wrenching her eyes away from her home, their home, to look at the little girl. “You didn’t need to—”

            “Come on. Let’s go see inside,” Charlotte says, breaking away from her to run up the steps.

            As she stands and follows, River doesn’t miss the way Charlotte’s small hands wipe at her eyes. She walks up the worn wooden steps and feels a sense of peace wash over her as she reaches the front door and tugs it further open, the brass knob familiar under her hand.

            She steps inside and sighs. It’s exactly the same, exactly—her couch and armchairs off to the right, the kitchen with its cluttered island across from the door, the little hall off the left to the laundry and half-bath. It even smells like home, like intergalactic cookies and flowers and books.

            She scans the room, a hundred memories flying out at her until her eyes find Charlotte, standing awkwardly between the kitchen and living room, her hands twisting in the bottom of her sweater.

            “Do you like it?” she asks as River shuts the front door and pads across the welcome mat and onto her old, dull wooden floors.

            “I love it,” she tells Charlotte, and even to her own ears, her voice is low and soft and awed. “It’s—it’s home.”

            “I’m glad.” River meets Charlotte’s eyes and sees the utter despair hiding behind her tremulous smile.

            “Thank you,” River begins, pausing beside the staircase against the wall.

            Charlotte lifts the corner of her mouth, but with every passing second, that smile falls and the girl seems to lose her grip, her composure slipping away. Charlotte looks around, her eyes combing over the room, and finally, River catches the right emotion on her face—wistfulness, wishing, want. Her hearts break, but she finally knows how to fix this.

            “Why don’t we go look at the bedrooms,” River suggests, smiling encouragingly as Charlotte’s eyes snap back to hers. “Come on.”

            River holds out her hand, waiting patiently until Charlotte stumbles over to her, looking lost and broken. But blunt promises can’t fix this, and though she wants to haul the girl into her arms and promise and promise, she needs to help her understand before she can let her breakdown.

            Slowly, she leads Charlotte up the stairs, holding her hand tightly, half afraid the girl will flee before she can try to mend her little broken heart. When they reach the landing, River sighs, staring at the two doors, one to her bedroom and one to the hall closet.

            “This is your room,” Charlotte murmurs, tugging on River until she walks to the door and opens it onto her bedroom.

The same white bed from the TARDIS, the same bookshelves from his bedroom, her armchair in the corner, the bruised door to the ensuite, dinged from the butt of her gun colliding with it every time the Doctor came home with her—it’s all here, and all the same.

“Is it okay?” Charlotte asks, breaking River from her memories—from remembering just how many times he forgot to let her take her gun out of her holster before slamming them into the bathroom door.

River takes a deep breath, tearing her eyes from the big bed now meant for one. She looks down at Charlotte, who looks back with shiny eyes and a trembling chin. She can make this right.

“It’s perfect, darling. But where’s your room?”

As she thought, Charlotte’s mouth drops open. The girl takes a step back from her, inching into the hallway, away from the light of River’s bright room, away from the ocean out the window.

“I don’t—this is your house, like Anita and Dave and Josh and Ella have theirs, and Evie and Proper Dave have theirs,” she says, and she’s so strong, but the tears finally fall.

“But where will you sleep?” River asks.

“At—at the Library,” Charlotte replies, her eyes wide and chest heaving with the attempt to stop crying.

River takes the few steps to Charlotte and reaches out, cupping her cheek. “But if you’re all the way in the Library, how can we have tea in the middle of the night and go for our walks in the morning and watch our Saturday cartoons?” Charlotte stares up at her, her lips pressed together. “Charlie,” River prompts gently.

Charlotte opens her mouth, but only manages a sob before falling forward into River’s arms. River wraps her arms around the little girl and cups the back of her head, accepting her weight and the press of her face into her stomach.

“Charlie, why didn’t you make yourself a room?” River asks a minute later, shifting them down to the floor so she can haul Charlotte into her lap, leaning back against the wall by her door.

Charlotte stays silent for another long moment, avoiding River’s eyes. “I—Anita and Dave didn’t want me, and Evie and Proper Dave were polite, but I just—I thought I’m just supposed to stay in the Library where, where I’m supposed to be.”

“Oh, honey,” River sighs. “Anita and Dave don’t not want you,” she says, wincing at the phrasing. “And Evie and Dave would love it if you went and stayed with them a few nights a week. They adore you.”

“But none of them—” Charlotte starts and then bites her lip, looking away.

“None of them what?”

“None of them made space for me,” she whispers. “I didn’t, I—when I made their houses I let, let them make all the spaces.”

River hums at that and rocks side to side a little, waiting until Charlotte relaxes in her arms before she opens her mouth. “And when you made this house, you didn’t let me choose, did you?”

“I didn’t need to,” Charlotte says as she reaches out to fiddle with one of the buttons on River’s sweater. “It’s just your house from before.”

River sighs and pulls back so she can look at the girl’s face. “Yes, but I’m here now.” She reaches out and taps Charlotte’s nose, smiling at the quirk of lips it gets her. “And I need a little more space.”

“Oh,” Charlotte says slowly. “Oh!” Oh, thank God. “Your library!”

“What? Oh, no, Charlie, not—”

“I can bring that, I can, just—”

“No,” River says quickly. “No, dear, not the library.” Charlotte wrinkles her brow and opens her mouth, but River shakes her head. “Charlie, why do you think Anita and Dave and Evie and Proper Dave didn’t make space for you in their heads?”

Charlotte’s eyes dim and she looks away. “Because I’m not Josh and Ella. I’m not simple and easy. And I’m not—I don’t call Anita or Dave—it’s not the same, and I’m not theirs. And Evie and Proper Dave just want to be with each other. They don’t want a—they don’t need a kid around.”

River waits until Charlotte chances a glance up at her before she shakes her head. “No, sweetie.”

“But—but that’s—that’s why,” she insists, almost indignant. “They don’t need me.”

“You’re right,” River begins, raising a finger to Charlotte’s lips as she opens her mouth. “Anita and Dave didn’t make you a room because you’re not like Josh and Ella for them.” Charlotte’s face falls but River presses on. “And Evie and Dave aren’t looking for a child, that’s true.”

“Then—”

“But that’s not why they didn’t make space for you,” River insists, even as Charlotte shakes her head. “They didn’t make space for you, because there’s space for you here.”

“So just because you’re alone means you have to take me?”

“No,” River says sharply. Charlotte startles in her arms, but River holds tight. “There’s space here for you because you’re mine, Charlotte.”

“I’m—”

“The way that Josh and Ella are Anita’s, you’re mine. That’s why Anita and Dave didn’t give you a room, and why Evie only offered to have you over for a day.”

“But you don’t—I’m—it’s not the same,” Charlotte says, her voice small and hesitant. “You don’t feel like you’re my—like Anita feels about Ella and Josh.”

“And how would you know that, dear?” River asks, watching as Charlotte’s eyes widen. “Anita and Dave have Josh and Ella, and I have you.”

“But—but I—”

“I don’t have to take care of you, Charlie. I want to.”

“But you don’t have to be my mummy just because you take care of me,” Charlotte whispers, looking down at their hands. “You can take care of people and not love them, or be their family.”

“Oh, dear. If you think I don’t love you, I have been doing something wrong.”

River reaches out and tips the girl’s chin, bringing her face up to meet her eyes. “I love you so very much, Charlotte Abigail. And if that makes me your friend, or your mummy, or your auntie, that’s just fine with me. Whatever you want me to be, Charlie, I will be. What I will always do, is love you.”

Charlotte’s eyes search River’s for a moment before she lurches forward and wraps her arms around River’s neck, clinging to her. River smiles and hums, rocking them side to side as Charlotte weeps into her neck.

“There, there, dear. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” she whispers to the little girl as Charlotte begins to quiet, sniffling into River’s hair, her fingers twisting into her curls.

“Mummy,” Charlotte whispers and River’s heart bursts.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” she promises, reaching up to wipe at her own eyes. “Right here, in our hallway, which I think is missing a few doors.”

Charlotte lifts her head, snuffling, and River smiles, smoothing her thumbs across her cheeks to wipe away the tears. “Doors?” Charlotte mumbles.

“One for your room, and one for your bathroom, I think,” River says, shifting Charlotte in her lap so they both face the empty wall across from her bedroom. “Now, can I help you this time?”

“Would you do it?” Charlotte whispers, placing her hands over River’s hands on her little stomach.

“Okay,” River says, resting her cheek against the crown of Charlotte’s head. “Okay. Any requests?”

“No,” Charlotte says, snuggling back into her.

River kisses her head then stares at the blank wall across from them. The perfect bedroom. What’s the perfect bedroom? She shifts back in her memory, trying to dredge up that hazy picture, a door opened once on the TARDIS while wandering on a sleepless night. The room with that little cot—her cot, his cot.

“Alright,” she murmurs, picturing it across from them, willing the same, warm worn wooden door into existence.

Slowly, it materializes, shimmering for a moment before it solidifies, a permanent fixture in her home, their home. River feels Charlotte take a deep breath, her hands tensing, fingers twisting into her own.

“You ready?” River asks.

Charlotte nods, and they haul themselves up from the floor and cross the hall. Together, they push the door open and Charlotte gasps. River smiles as her eyes comb the room. The carpet nearly shimmers, dark purple with flecks of silver and gold blinking out at random intervals. The walls seem to undulate between deep blues, purples, blacks; the walls are space, with a thousand stars twinkling out within it, crossing the ceiling with flares and spirals and planets. Charlotte’s bed looks like the cot, but larger, the base and headboards made of the same deep, shining green with Gallifreyan etched across the wood, spelling out—oh.

“What does it say?” Charlotte asks, releasing River’s hand to cross to the bed and trace her fingers across the words.

“It says,” River begins, her voice cracking. “It says, Charlotte Abigail Pond,” River whispers as she comes to Charlotte’s side. “And here,” she runs her finger over the smaller symbols that line the edges of the bed. “It says Light, or Lux.”

“Pond for—” Charlotte breathes out, looking up at River.

“For you, for me, for my mother,” River tells her. “River Song, Melody Pond—they’re one in the same.”

“And I’m—because you’re my mum?”

“If you’d like to be a Pond, we’d love to have you,” River gets out, speaking around the knot in her throat. God, did she want this all along? A little Pond of her own?

“Charlotte Pond sounds good,” Charlotte says shyly. “Charlotte Abigail Lux Pond?”

“A light Pond? Oh, I like the thought of that. A Pond of Light. Yes, I think we’ll keep you,” River decides, laughing as Charlotte doubles over with giggles and stumbles around to flop dramatically on her bed.

River follows and falls back next to her, making the bed shake. Charlotte giggles and cuddles into her side, both of their legs half off the bed.

“Oh, Mum, look,” Charlotte breathes, pointing above them.

It takes River a moment follow her, her eyes stuck on Charlotte’s face, her daughter’s face. Her chest is so tight, but bursting at the same time. Eventually, Charlotte nudges her with a huff and River turns to look up at the ceiling.

“Oh,” River gasps, staring up at the ceiling as the stars and planets and galaxies shift, moving across the ceiling in criss-crossing patterns and spirals and circles.

“Did you mean to do that?” Charlotte wonders as River pulls them both completely onto the bed, the two of them tucked up with their heads on the pillows, staring up at the universe.

River tracks the path of a shooting star across the ceiling. “Maybe we’re just so powerful that we create time and space,” she offers.

Charlotte laughs and burrows into her side, an arm over her stomach. “I’m sure that’s it,” she mumbles into River’s shoulder.

River smiles and cards her fingers through Charlotte’s long hair, turning to look down at her daughter. Her daughter. “Are you tired, sweetie?” she asks softly.

Charlotte nods against her shoulder. “Lots of building,” she sighs out.

“Overworked yourself, again, did you?”

“Can you lecture me later?” Charlotte asks, so close to whining that it makes River laugh.

“Oh, dear, I think we’ll skip it this time. It’s been a rough day.” River says once she gets her breath back. “You just rest now.”

“Will you stay?” Charlotte whispers, her fingers clenching into River’s dress.

“Of course I will,” River soothes, bending to press a kiss to Charlotte’s forehead. “I’m right here.”

 


	7. Enough

**Chapter 7:**

“Charlie,” River exclaims, laughing as Charlotte grins up at her, a cookie stuffed in her mouth. “Those are for after dinner.”

“Why?” the girl mumbles, crumbs falling out of her mouth and onto the floor as she munches.

“Because I said so,” River decides, tapping Charlotte’s nose, only to have the girl grin, chewing happily as she shrugs.

Her little hand reaches up to snag another and River bats her away, narrowing her eyes. Charlotte puts up her hands in surrender and backs away, swallowing before she beams.

“And stay out,” River says loftily, brandishing her spoon in Charlotte’s direction.

The girl rolls her eyes and flounces over to the living room to fall onto the couch. River smiles as Charlotte gives up her drama, reaching eagerly for her sketch pad. She watches as her daughter squishes into the couch, the pad balanced on her knees as she begins to scribble.

            A knock on the door startles River out of her reverie. She wipes her hands on her apron and moves to the front door, shooting Charlotte a look as the girl peers back at the kitchen.

            “Eyes on the back of my head, young lady,” she warns, smirking as Charlotte guiltily turns back to her sketching.

            River nods and opens the door, blinking in the bright sunlight. “Dr. Moon,” she greets, returning the man’s smile.

            “Good afternoon, River. How are you?”

            “I’m well,” she says, opening the door wider. “Please, come in.” Dr. Moon smiles and passes by her, looking around with interest. “Charlie, we’ve got company,” River calls out.

            “Hello, Dr. Moon,” Charlotte chirps, laying down her pad to jump up from the couch. “Do you like our house?”

            Dr. Moon gives the girl a large smile and makes a show of turning around, scoping out their space. “It’s lovely, Charlotte. And with such a view,” he adds, gesturing out the living room window to the vast expanse of ocean.

            “Mummy likes the ocean,” Charlotte says, scuffing a foot against the floor.

            “Well,” Dr. Moon says, glancing significantly in River’s direction. “Your mum has good taste.”

            “Thank you,” River says as she walks around him and back to the kitchen. “Would you like some tea, Dr. Moon?”

            “Oh, that would be wonderful, thank you.”

            “Charlie, why don’t you go show Dr. Moon your room while I make us some tea,” River suggests, meeting Dr. Moon’s eyes. He nods slightly, shooting her a smile. A check-in, then. He’s certainly taken his time.

            “With biscuits too?” Charlotte asks, giving River an innocent look.

            She sighs and shakes her head at her daughter. “No dessert after dinner then.”

            “But Mum,” Charlotte whines, already pouting. “I can’t develop obesity or congestive heart failure.”

            River chokes out a laugh while Dr. Moon grins at Charlotte. “Just because you’re clever doesn’t mean you get to be on a constant sugar high,” River gets out. Oh, but she almost wants to give in.

            “One biscuit now, one biscuit after dinner?” Charlotte bargains.

            “One biscuit now, strawberries with sugar after dinner,” River counters. Charlotte wrinkles her nose. “You love strawberries.”

            “But not for sweets,” Charlotte argues. “Strawberries with cream?”

            “I can’t win, can I?” River asks, looking at Dr. Moon.

            He simply smiles and turns to Charlotte. “Let’s go see your room, and let your Mum make some tea.”

            Charlotte narrows her eyes at them. “I’m not going to forget just because we go upstairs,” she warns.

            River laughs and walks around the counter. She reaches out and smoothes down Charlotte’s hair with a fond smile. “No, but maybe I’ll be a little more clever when you come down.”

            “I doubt it,” Charlotte says before she darts away. “Come on, Dr. Moon.”

            “Cheeky,” River calls out as Dr. Moon follows Charlotte’s pounding footsteps up the stairs.

            “Love you, Mum,” Charlotte calls back.

            River rolls her eyes but can’t help the smile that crosses her face as she walks back to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She stares at her refrigerator, covered with all manner of pictures titled with things like, “The Pond’s Pond,” and “A Pond of Songs.”

For weeks, or what feels like weeks, maybe months, Charlotte has bounced around the house, full of smiles, that shadow gone from the corner of her eyes.  And that’s her doing—she put those smiles there, erased the darkness. She’s done many things in her life, but somehow, this shines as one of her proudest accomplishments. She’s made a little girl happy, made her feel loved, given her the home River never got to have as a child.

            And she gets a daughter. She gets to argue about biscuits and bed times, gets to cuddle and play and chat with her own kid. She gets to watch Charlotte grow, maybe not in age, or stature, but in maturity. Every day, her mind grows. It’s fitting, she thinks, that she gets a daughter who never gets older, but will grow up at least partially, and her mother got a daughter who never grew up, but was grown.

            Some kind of irony.  She snorts and nearly finds herself turning to look over her shoulder and share the joke. But there’s no one to share it with.

            River leans against the counter and stares across the room and out the window at the sea, churning with great waves that crash against the sand. If she closes her eyes and opens her ears, she can hear them over the sounds of the house. The ebb and flow of the tide floats up to her and she lets it carry her away, lets it wash away her new reality and send her back to a time when she had someone to share things with. When she and he could be the cleverest people in the room.

            He would adore Charlotte—would get an absolute kick out of her quick wit and little girl charm. She reminds River of a cross between herself and Amy sometimes, if they’d been smashed into one girl as children. How he had loved Amy, and how he loved her; she imagines that’s how he would love her daughter.

            But chances are she’ll never get to know for sure. As time passes, if it passes here, she feels that last well of hope slowly draining. And she’s fine. That’s alright. That’s as it should be. Everything ends. She gets her daughter and hopefully, somewhere distantly above them in the vast expanse of space, he’s living and fighting—the Doctor in the TARDIS, next stop everywhere.

            Still, if once, just once, everywhere could be here with her, to laugh at her daughter’s jokes and pass looks across the table and feel the press of his hand on her back—

            “Mummy?”

            River startles and winces as the sound of the kettle pierces through the fog of her memories. “Oh, dear, sorry, darling,” she stumbles out, fumbling to turn off the kettle and remove it from the burner. “Got distracted.”

            Charlotte stares up at her, considering. “Are you okay?”

            “I’m just fine,” River assures her, plastering on an easy smile. “What’s your poison, Doctor?” she asks, forcing her words around the clench in her throat as she looks over at Dr. Moon.

            “Actually, River, I think I need to be going. There’s a few broken pixels over by the reserves section that I should see to.”

            “If you’re sure,” River says, placing the kettle down and gripping onto the edge of the counter to stop the tremor in her hands.

            “I am. Thank you for the offer though. Charlotte, I’ll see you sometime soon.”

            “Okay,” her daughter says, tossing him a smile before she snuggles herself into River’s side, arms around her waist.

            River absently weaves a hand into Charlotte’s hair as she watches Dr. Moon leave. The door closes gently behind him and River stares at it, wishing, wishing that another doctor would walk through.

            “Mummy,” Charlotte prompts quietly.

            “Yes, darling?” River responds, mustering up a convincing smile as she looks down at her daughter.

            “You’re crying.”

            River hurriedly wipes at her cheeks, dumbfounded. “Oh, well, I’m—I, ah,” she stutters. “Just remembering, sweetie. I’m fine.”

            “Here,” Charlotte says, reaching up to snag a biscuit. “To make you feel better,” she adds as she presses it into River’s hand.

            River laughs softly and releases her daughter to break the treat in half. “Using my maudlin behavior to your own benefit,” she says, shaking her head as she passes Charlotte her half. “I’m proud.”

            Charlotte grins and together, they munch on their little snack as the light fades slowly over the ocean. “What were you remembering?” she wonders after a few minutes.

            River looks down at her, weighing her words but ultimately deciding that the truth was far from damaging, really. “The Doctor.”

            “Oh.” Charlotte looks up at her. “Do you still—of course you do,” she finishes her own thought and turns around to stand a few feet from the counter. “Would you like—I could, I mean, it wouldn’t be the same, I don’t think, but I could sort of create a—”

            “No,” River cuts in, trying and failing to let it out in something other than a sharp syllable. “No, sweetie,” she tries again. “I—that’s lovely of you, and…tempting, but it wouldn’t be him, and I don’t even want to think about you trying to fit all of that into your head.”

            “But you must be—I know you miss him,” Charlotte insists.

            She does, with an ache so deep, so constant, dulled by her life here, but never gone. But to live with half of him, a conjured image made of memories and history books—she couldn’t. He wouldn’t be her Doctor. He wouldn’t be real.

            And yet, she wants it, wants just the phantom touch of his hand, the ghost of his smile, the echo of his laugh.

            “I’m sorry I can’t bring him to you,” Charlotte whispers.

            River blinks and looks down at her daughter, shaking it away as best she can. “That’s not your job. And I may not have him, Charlie, but I have you.”

            “But I’m not him,” Charlotte protests.

            River sighs and shakes her head, stepping forward to wrap her arms around the little girl. “No, but that’s why we have children, darling. It’s not to replace our spouses, but to add light to the darkness. And you, my pond of light, illuminate all of history.”

            Charlotte stares up at her, searching her eyes with her fists clenched into the back of River’s sweater. “But you’re sad.”

            River combs her eyes over her daughter’s face, over the innocence and light and joy that lives in her eyes, her cheeks, her dimples. She doesn’t have her husband, but she gets to have a family, small as they are together. Would she have chosen to do it like this? Never. But she wouldn’t give it up either.

            She wouldn’t. The thought nearly winds her. If the Doctor showed up tomorrow with a way to get her out, she wouldn’t leave. She couldn’t leave.

            But her daughter is still watching her, seeing all of it play over her face, so she steels herself and shakes it off, storing it away for later—to mull over later in her empty bed.           

            “Sometimes I am,” River agrees with a smile. “But I’m alive, and that is something to celebrate. So.” She steps back and takes Charlotte’s hands. “What do you say we go light a fire on the beach, get the gang together, and have a cookout?”

            Charlotte smiles slowly, her eyes alight with the suggestion. “Okay.”

            “Okay,” River says definitively. “Could you call over to Anita and Dav—” She sighs as her daughter vanishes on the spot. “Or teleport there. Don’t think we won’t be talking about this terrible habit of yours!” she calls out to the empty house.

            She shakes her head and makes her way back into the kitchen, rummaging in their cabinets for a pan and a few tupperwares. The house doesn’t vibrate around her, doesn’t laugh with her at her daughter’s antics, or comment on her husband’s lack of finesse in doing the dishes. It doesn’t shake with space energy, or tilt through The Vortex. It doesn’t hum as she sleeps, singing ancient melodies through her head.

            But it’s home. And it’s theirs.

            And she couldn’t leave it.

            “Anita and Dave say they’ll be over with Josh and Ella in forty minutes,” Charlotte announces, causing River to drop the pot she’d been washing. It clatters into the sink and she winces, glaring at her daughter.

            “And Evie and Dave weren’t around, I don’t think,” Charlotte continues, unperturbed. “But I didn’t want to…search for them.”

            River laughs, despite herself, and beckons her daughter over, pulling out the step stool and nudging her up to let her finish washing the pan while she gets meat out of the freezer.

            “Mum,” Charlotte protests, eyeing the pan in the sink with reluctance.

            “What did I say about surprise teleportation?” River asks, looking back at Charlotte over her shoulder.

            “Not without at least a three word warning,” Charlotte grumbles.

            River nods. “Pop to it. It’s just one pan.”

            She turns back to the fridge to hide her smile as Charlotte mutters under her breath, reaching out for the sponge.

            No, she couldn’t leave her daughter.

            She glances out the window across the vast expanse of the grounds. She couldn’t leave her daughter, but sometimes, when the wind whips across the grass and rustles the trees, she hopes that she can share her someday. It might be enough for him.

            “Ew, mum!”

            River spins around at a splash and laughs softly at her daughter, now covered in suds, the sponge floating in the sink.

            It’s enough for her.

 


	8. I Have Missed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating change for this chapter. Passage marked with an asterisk.

**Chapter 8:**  

            River shifts and rolls over, consciousness creeping back into her head. Her mouth feels like cotton, her whole body heavy. When was the last time she really slept?

            “Mummy.”

            “Charlie?” she gets out, wrenching an eye open to peer at her daughter in the moonlight that filters through her window. “S’matter?”

            “I—something’s different,” Charlotte whispers.

            “Different?” Her brain is buzzing, frazzled. She hasn’t felt like this in years, not since that night after Manhattan when she finally crashed and woke up in their bed, her head in the Doctor’s lap, his fingers in her hair. He’d smiled and answered her discombobulated questions, stroked at her scalp, pressed kisses to her forehead as she slogged out of her sleep-induced haze.

            “Something’s different in my library,” Charlotte says, coming closer so River can see her pale face—too pale, even in the moonlight.

            “In the—in the real Library?” River gets out. This is important, damnit. She needs to wake up.

            Charlotte nods and River slowly scoots over, beckoning the girl into the bed. She can’t possibly be expected to walk her back to her room tonight. Charlotte climbs up and settles beneath the puffy white comforter with her, both of them staring up at the white canopy above the bed.

            “It feels strange,” Charlotte tells her. “I feel strange.”

            River snaps her head to look at her daughter. “How so?”

            “My head is fuzzy,” Charlotte explains. “And I had trouble getting up.”

            “You too,” River says, squeezing Charlotte’s hand as her fingers curl into her palm.

            “Is your head fuzzy?”

            “Yes,” River whispers. “Getting clearer. What’s strange in the Library?”

            “I don’t know,” Charlotte says uneasily. “It’s like somebody’s there, but I can’t see them. It’s all buzzy in my head.”

            River sighs, reaching out to curl the girl into her side. She strokes at Charlotte’s temple. “Are you frightened?”

            Charlotte shakes her head. “No. You feel it too.”

            River smiles softly and hums her assent. “The buzzing, yes.”

            “What do you think it means?”

            “I don’t know, dear,” River tells her. “Are you in any pain? Should I go find Dr. Moon?”

            Charlotte shakes her head against the crook of River’s shoulder. “Can I stay here tonight?”

            “Of course, darling. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?” River asks as the fog finally clears and she comes back to herself. She’s certainly slept enough tonight.

            “I don’t know.” She feels Charlotte shift a little, getting comfortable. “The moon is big.”

            River glances out her window, the gauzy white curtains to either side blowing gently in the soft breeze that floats through the open window. The moon hangs over the ocean, so large it seems as though it sits a mile from her window.

            “It’s beautiful,” River says quietly.

            “It’s very bright,” Charlotte murmurs. “Too bright.”

            She sits up after a moment, staring out the window as if entranced. “Charlie?”

            “Mummy, I—” she breaks off and jumps from the bed.

            “Charlotte!” Charlotte bolts out of the room.

            She stumbles up, unsteady on her feet, but unwilling to leave her daughter alone, wherever she’s gone to. She hurries from the room, a hand against the wall as she goes to keep her steady.

            “Charlie,” River calls out, coming down the stairs, eyes combing the living room, the kitchen.

            “Mummy!” Charlotte’s voice rings out through the open front door.

            River rushes outside. Charlotte stands at the top of the long staircase to the beach, one hand raised to point down the hill. She turns to look at River, her eyes wide and hand shaking.

            River jogs across the grass to meet her, taking the girl’s face into her hands and turning it from side to side. “Are you alright?” she asks hurriedly.

            “Mummy,” Charlotte whispers. “Look.”

            River glances down at the beach and feels the breath leave her lungs.

            The blue box. His blue box. The TARDIS sits serenely on the shore, the light slowly fading there at the top, waves lapping at the base.

            She can’t breathe. She can’t think. She can’t move.

            Charlotte exhales next to her and suddenly it crashes over her. Joy and fear collide, tightening in her chest. It’s too good to be true. He can’t be here. He just can’t.

            “Charlotte,” River whispers, wrenching her eyes back to her daughter’s face. “Did you do this?”

            Charlotte gapes at her, shaking her head between her hands. “No.”

            “Charlie,” River insists, forcing herself to swallow past her tight throat, forcing air into her constricting lungs. “Promise me you didn’t make this—didn’t wish him here.”

            “I promise,” Charlotte says shakily. “I didn’t bring him, Mummy. He’s the buzzing.”

            “He’s the—”

            Down below them, the doors open and he stumbles onto the beach on gangly limbs, glaring at the TARDIS.

            Her Doctor.

            “And in the middle of the night!” his voice floats up to them. “Couldn’t have landed in the day. She’s probably sleeping. Very romantic,” he rants, flinging his arms around and spinning. “And right on the ocean. Bloody convenient. Got to ask why there’s an ocean in here. Looks oddly like Wales, wouldn’t you say?” he continues, making his way back to the TARDIS to run his hand down the side, his back to them.

            His words fall away as he gazes out at the water and River feels herself start to breathe again. She gently releases her hold on Charlotte’s cheeks and shifts on her feet, muscles coming back to life as her stilted shock slowly melts away.

            “Mummy,” Charlotte whispers, working her hand into River’s. “We should go down.”

            River opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. He’s here. The Doctor is here, with the TARDIS. Real, and alive, and here.

            Before she can form words, Charlotte begins to tug her down the stairs. She follows blindly after her, amazed that she doesn’t trip and send them tumbling down to their digital deaths. But her daughter’s hand is warm and firm in her own, and River follows her, her eyes trained on the back of his head—her Doctor.

            As they reach the bottom of the steps, the sand soft beneath their feet, he turns. She watches as his face lights up at the sight of her, his eyes dancing and bright as he fidgets, straightening his bow tie. He swallows and they stare at each other for a long moment, words lost.

            He’s _here._

            “Hi, honey.” Her hearts nearly beat out of her chest as he smiles. “I’m home.”

            She wets her lips and tries to blink around the tears rapidly blurring her vision. She raises her free hand and gestures to the beach and the moon and the night around them. “And what sort of time do you call this?”

            His grin could turn on the sun. He rushes forward and she meets him halfway there, throwing her arms around his neck as they stumble into each other, laughing breathlessly.

            “You’re here,” she breathes out, her face pressed into his neck as his arms band around her and he lifts her up, spinning there on the beach.

            “Of course I am,” he whispers. He places her down on the ground and pulls back, eyes searching hers. “River,” he says, his voice wrapped around her name like a prayer.

            The sound of her name on his lips undoes her.

            She rises up on her toes and presses her lips to his, her hands rising to cradle his face in her palms as his tangle in her hair and clutch at her waist. He tastes like time and space and home, and she feels tears sliding down her cheeks as they stay there, locked together.

            After long moment, forever and nothing and a day all at once, they break apart, pulling back and panting, foreheads pressed together.

            He’s here. He’s here, and solid, and warm, and real for her.

            He’s here. But that means—

            “You look exactly the same,” he says, slowly leaning back to meet her eyes. “So beautiful.”

            She smiles as he reaches up and wipes her cheeks with his thumbs. She stares at his impossibly young face— _her_ Doctor, her Eleventh Doctor. “My Doctor—I thought, thought I’d never—but you—you didn’t die at Eleven did you?”

            “Sixteen,” he says softly.

            “Sixteen,” she repeats, reaching up to catch the tear that leaks down his face. “My love, so old.”

            “Fourteen and Fifteen were three years apart,” he says, turning his head to kiss her fingers. “And Eleven only lasted about a year after you. God, four hundred years without you, my River. How did I manage?”

            She squeaks as he hauls her back into his chest, his face buried in her hair.

            “I missed you so much,” he says against her ear. “So much.”

            River nods against his cheek, squeezing her eyes shut and just feeling him around her. She doesn’t know how long she’s been here—has stopped trying to count the days that bleed into years—but she has missed him every second, every breath, every moment.

            “River,” he says a few minutes later, his words humming through her.

            “Hmm?”

            “There’s a little girl watching us and grinning like we’ve just given her a pony,” he mumbles.

            “Oh,” River laughs, releasing him and stumbling backward, watching with delight as his hands reach for her, as if he can’t bear to let her go for even a second. “Oh, dear,” she says. “Charlie, sweetheart, come here.”

            She turns and watches as her daughter bounds across the sand to them, slipping a little as she goes. She slams into River’s side and wraps her arms around her waist for a moment before straightening to look up at the Doctor.

            “Hello,” she chirps.

            “Hello,” the Doctor replies, peering at her. “Charlotte? Are you Charlotte? But you called her Charlie,” he says, glancing at River. “So that would make you Cal, wouldn’t it?”

            Charlotte nods. “But mu—River calls me Charlie.”

            River looks down at Charlotte, but she avoids her eyes. Well, they’ll be having that discussion soon.

            “Charlie’s a good name,” the Doctor says, smiling down at her. “Did you make the ocean?”

            “I did,” Charlotte says, grinning up at him. “I wanted to make sandcastles.”

            “Those are the absolute best,” the Doctor tells her. “We should make one.”

            “What, now?” River lets out as the two grin at each other.

            “The moon is awfully bright,” the Doctor says with an impish shrug.

            River considers them, now both looking up at her with imploring pouts. “Well, you two can build sand castles. I’m going to go see the TARDIS.”

            She steps away from them, hiding her smile as she counts down in her head, three, two—

            “I want to see the TARDIS!” River turns back, her face as blank as she can manage. Charlotte stares after her, her whole body nearly vibrating with excitement. “Please.”           

            River keeps up her act for a second, then gives in, smiling at her daughter and holding out her hand. “Come on, then.”

            Charlotte skips over, grabbing her hand and swinging their arms between them in excitement. “Just like you said?” she asks as they meander across the beach together, the Doctor behind them.

            “I don’t know, dear. We’ll have to ask him.”

            River stumbles as Charlotte stops walking and turns around. “Is it the same, Doctor?”

            “The same as what?” he asks, taking a few leaps to fall into step on Charlotte’s other side.

            “The same as it is in mum—River’s diary,” Charlotte insists. River squeezes her hand and feels Charlotte squeeze back.

            The Doctor shoots her a look before grinning down at Charlotte. “That depends,” he says as they reach the TARDIS doors.

            “Depends on what?”

            “How good she is at describing things,” he says, pushing the door open.

            River gasps and feels tears springing back into her eyes. Oh, it’s exactly the same. Her TARDIS.

            Charlotte squeals next to her and releases her hand, zipping inside to run around in childish excitement. River chuckles and stays still, staring through the open door, the warmth of the control room beckoning to her like the smell of cookies at her mother’s house.

            “It’s the same,” she whispers as the Doctor’s hand brushes over her back. “Exactly the same.”

            “Course it is,” he murmurs, stepping closer to wrap his arm around her waist.

            “But why? You must have had others. You didn’t even have this one when I left.”

            “It’s the one that goes with this face,” he says easily. “And this face goes with your face.”

            “Sentimental idiot,” she chides, but leans into him all the same as they step across the threshold.

            “Oh,” she sighs, feeling the rush of energy underneath her feet, the warmth that spreads up her chest at the TARDIS’ welcome. “Hello, darling,” she whispers.

            “She’s missed you,” the Doctor says softly. “Would barely even move if I left the stabilizers off.”

            River laughs and lets him guide her up to the console while Charlotte wanders in a circle, bursting with questions.

            “What does this do?” she asks as soon as they’re on the platform. “Can she fly here? How did you get her here?”

            “Good question,” River agrees, releasing the Doctor to sit in the jump seat.

            The Doctor rubs a hand over the back of his neck and shoots River a shy look. “When I, ah, once I knew we were getting close to, well—” he trails off and glances at Charlotte. “When I knew River was coming here, I started, well, I started testing out all of these plans I’d made—trying to figure out how to get in here.”

            “But the Vashta Nerada,” Charlotte interjects.

            “Precisely why I kind of had to wait until I was dead,” he says, tapping her nose. “So, I put in a circuit in the TARDIS.”

            “What kind of circuit?” River asks.

            “A deliverance circuit. There’s a spot,” he spins around, eyes combing over the walls. “Aha,” he points toward the stairs to the lower levels where they can see a small port. “It’s an extendable sonic,” he explains. “And this,” he taps a rather large set of reader scales on the console, “is my version of your neural relay.”

            River gapes. “So you put the whole—all of time and space into the mainframe?”

            “What? No!” He turns and gives her a look before grinning sheepishly. “Alright, well, maybe. But I didn’t mean to. I kind of stumbled in here, or she brought me here—all kind of a blur, really—and the next thing I know, we’ve landed in The Library and she’s feeding the Vortex in with me, and there’s really nothing I can do about it. And then we popped up here. It was all Sexy. I mean,” he glances at Charlotte. “The TARDIS. It was all her idea.”

            He grins at River and she can’t help beaming back. Her Doctor and her TARDIS. Charlotte reaches up and places her hand on the edge of the console. River looks over as her eyes widen and she gasps. She watches with interest, feeling the TARDIS humming beneath her. The Doctor looks between them, baffled.

            “River,” he says quietly, walking over to stand beside her. “What is she doing?”

            “I think,” River says, watching as her daughter reaches out to stroke a finger down one of the levers. “I think she’s introducing herself.”

            “Intro—to the TARDIS?”

            “What? It’s not that strange,” River says, arching an eyebrow just to see him fluster.

            “Not that—Just because you’re part Time Lord doesn’t mean everyone else just gets to—it’s _my_ ship! I don’t—I don’t understand.”

            “Well, dear, she’s not quite normal, now is she?” River says, nudging him to watch as Charlotte begins flipping switches and levers.

            “What is she—”

            “Sexy’s going to park us up by the house, I believe,” River placates, grabbing his arm before he can launch himself over to Charlotte and stop her progress. “Let them be.”

            “I don’t understand,” he says, turning back to her. “She can fly the TARDIS?”

            “Apparently,” River says with a shrug. “She’s special.”

            The TARDIS shifts suddenly and River and the Doctor grab at each other. The console shakes as they take off and Charlotte stumbles, clutching at the console to stay standing.

            “The blue ones!” River and the Doctor say together.

            Charlotte jumps to hit the stabilizers as they rattle around. She manages after a moment and the room stops moving. All three of them let out a sigh of relief before both River and the Doctor burst out laughing.

            “She did that on purpose!” River says, glancing apologetically at Charlotte as she rises from the chair. She walks over and places a hand on the console just as the deep, gong-like sound rings out around the room. “And we’ve landed.”

            “I still say the brakes make a better noise,” the Doctor grumbles. “But well done, Miss Charlotte.”

            “She didn’t tell me to use the blue ones,” Charlotte says quickly.

            “She was playing with us,” he says with a grin. “Don’t worry. For a first time flight, that was rather good.”

            “Really?” Charlotte asks shyly, glancing at River as she runs a hand soothingly over the back of her head. “She said it was okay.”

            “Of course she did,” River says softly. “You did brilliantly, Charlie. Now, how about we go inside for tea. We can explore more later.”

            “More?” Charlotte wonders as River takes her hand and gestures for the Doctor to walk out ahead of them.

            “Oh, there’s loads more. We’ll have to go swimming, and take a look at the library in here. I bet he’s got books even you haven’t got.”

            “I certainly do,” the Doctor says haughtily as he opens the door for them. “Loads and loads of them.”

            “Are they still in the swimming pool?” River asks as Charlotte hops out ahead of her.

            “Shush, you,” the Doctor says with a grin. “Now, let’s see your lovely…house.”

            He stops short and stares up at her home, glancing at the tree with the broken swing, the damaged knocker on the door, the TARDIS blue window trimming.

            “It’s the same,” he whispers.

            “Course it is,” she says, patting his arm and snagging his hand as Charlotte tugs her toward the stairs. “Now come along, Doctor.”

            He grins and hurries up the steps after them, slamming the door with gusto as they step inside. Charlotte skips over to the kitchen and River watches with amusement as she searches through the cabinets, obviously not above using this glorious reunion as an excuse for sweets at five in the morning.

            “It looks lovely,” the Doctor says as he wraps his arms around River’s waist. “Just like home. The refrigerator’s magnificent,” he adds.

            River sighs and sinks into his arms, letting her head fall back to his shoulder to look up at him. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she says quietly, fully aware that she sounds romantic and mushy and far from the stoic Song he saw last.

            “I was always coming here,” he says, bending to press his lips to her forehead. “How long has it been?”

            She shrugs against him. “A year, seven, a hundred. I’m not really sure. Long enough.”

            He breathes against her, both of them quiet and pensive, soaking up the basic feeling of the other’s arms, until pans clatter in the kitchen.

            “Oops,” Charlotte mutters and River laughs as her head pokes out around the cabinet.

            “And you thought you’d find them with the pans?” River wonders, squeezing the Doctor’s hands on her stomach for a moment before gently removing herself from his arms.           

            “What are you looking for, exactly?” River asks as she walks over to her daughter around the center island.

            “Jammie Dodgers,” Charlotte huffs quietly, glancing back at the Doctor as he slowly walks over to join them.

            “Darling, I don’t know that we have any. You’d have to—” A package of them appears in Charlotte’s hand and River rolls her eyes. “If you sleep for three days after this, don’t blame me.”

            “It’s just one package of cookies, mum. Jeez,” Charlotte mutters back before looking up, startled.

            River feels the Doctor’s hand on her back as he leans over her shoulder. “Ooh,” he squeaks, delighted. “My absolute favorite.”

            “I know,” Charlotte says with a grin, standing up to put them on the counter. “They’re mu—River’s favorite too.”

            “They are not,” the Doctor says, indignant. “In fact, I remember one night, quite clearly, you said they were the most atrocious things in the Universe, and took my package and chucked it into space. I was nearly finished with it too!”

            Charlotte narrows her eyes at River then looks at the Doctor. “Did you ever think maybe she ate them?”

            “No,” he says seriously. “No,” he repeats as River starts to laugh. “You thief!” His hands wrap around her waist and she doubles over as he begins to tickle her.

            “Years ago,” she gasps out, trying to avoid him without flipping him over or crashing into Charlotte. “Hundreds of years, maybe—maybe thousands. Get off me!” she shrieks as he laughs in her ear. “Sweetie, stop it!”

            He desists immediately, his arms squeezing her back against his chest as he drops his head to press his forehead into her cheek. “God, it’s been so long since you’ve called me that.”

            She smiles and runs her fingertips over the sleeve of his tweed. She looks down at Charlotte after a moment and finds the girl watching them with soft eyes. But beneath the sheen of happiness, she sees a shadow of the look she wore the first time Ella called Anita “Mummy.”

            “Charlie, can you put those on a plate for me while I start tea?”

            “I could make us tea,” Charlotte says quietly. “Would be faster.”

            “We’ve got all the time in the Universe,” River chides. “Let’s save your creativity for fun things. We’ve a lot to show the Doctor tomorrow.”

            “I could make it tomorrow right now,” Charlotte offers. “Then you could show him things, and I can go to Evie and Dave’s.”

            “You’re not coming with us?” the Doctor interjects, and River could bloody kiss him for the look that crosses her daughter’s face. “What’s the point of getting the tour without the creator?”

            “But I’m not—”

            “Did you, or did you not, make an entire ocean for fun?” he asks, and River can’t quite remember another time when he’s sounded this way—comforting, stern, warm. It makes her melt a little—horribly feminine of her, really.

            “I did,” Charlotte mumbles.

            “Then I want your tour,” he says easily, stepping around River to pluck the package of Jammie Dodgers from her hands. “Now, how about we open these and have a midnight snack.”

            “It’s after five,” River says, moving around them to fill the kettle.

            “So we’re having biscuits for breakfast,” the Doctor decides. “Isn’t she the greatest?” he asks Charlotte as he tears the package open.

            “Yeah, she is,” Charlotte says quietly.

            “Oh, I’d forgotten how good they are,” the Doctor groans, half a biscuit already in his mouth. “Here.”

            Charlotte giggles and takes the proffered treat, nibbling on it with a sly grin. “Can we have cookies for breakfast all the time?” she asks.

            “Yes.”

            “No.”

            Both of them turn to stare at River, eyes wide and pleading. “Oh, I’ll never win, will I? Alright, children, scoot over to the living room and leave me to make tea.”

            “We’ll corrupt her yet, just you wait,” the Doctor says in a stage whisper as he nudges Charlotte around the counter. “You’re sure you don’t need help?” he adds, turning to River before following her daughter to the living room.

            “I’m fine,” she says, and for the first time she truly means it. “You two get cozy, exchange all powerful secrets.”

            He smiles and searches her eyes for a moment before leaning in to press a quick kiss to her mouth. He pulls away too fast but grins at her before spinning around to join Charlotte.

            “Oi! Don’t eat them all,” he exclaims and River laughs.

            She goes about preparing their tea on a cloud with their laughter and voices soft behind her. The Doctor, her Doctor is here. Forever. Always. Eternity. She gets eternity with her husband and her daughter.

            She laughs as she notices tears falling down her cheeks again. She hadn’t wept at the start, hadn’t let herself mourn the loss of him, but now, with him here and real with them, it’s as though she’s grieving and rejoicing at once.

            Her hands begin to shake as the kettle whistles and she finds herself gripping at the counter. She manages to turn off the kettle with a trembling hand before returning it to the counter, bracing herself as she tries vainly to calm down. He doesn’t need to see her this way, and neither does Charlotte. But she cannot seem to pull herself together.

            “River?”

She has half a mind to ignore him, but the gentle hand at her shoulder makes it impossible and she turns around to find him there in front of her, Charlotte watching the two of them from the couch.

            “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she says on a hiccup. “Just a little overwhelmed.” He reaches out to cup her cheek, eyes intent on hers. “Really.”

            He smiles, giving her a small nod before he steps forward to wrap his arms around her. “Liar.” She laughs into his neck as he strokes a hand through her hair. “Why don’t you go sit with Charlotte and I’ll finish up here.”

            “She doesn’t need to see this,” River sighs.

            “Afraid that ship has sailed, dear,” he tells her lightly. “Now go, she’s worried.”

            “Well, I’ve made a right mess of this,” she says as she pulls back and wipes at her eyes.

            “What? Being so glad to see me that you burst into tears? I find it highly romantic.”

            She chuckles and leans up to kiss his cheek before following his gentle push toward the living room. She meets Charlotte’s eyes as she walks around the couch to sit down beside her, smiling when her daughter immediately cuddles into her side.

            “Are you happy, mummy?” she whispers.

            River squeezes the girl against her with a nod. “So happy I can’t seem to stop crying.”

            Charlotte snuggles deeper into her side. “I’m glad you’re happy,” she whispers.

            River smiles and bends to kiss her daughter’s head. “Thank you, darling.”

            They sit for a quiet minute, only the sounds of the Doctor fumbling in the kitchen filling the room. As they rest, River slowly feels the tears ebbing, her body sinking into the couch, exhausted and exultant.

            “Would you like me to go to bed?” Charlotte asks. River looks down at her and finds her daughter staring out the window. “So you can be alone with the Doctor,” she explains. “I could go back to the Library.”

            River sighs, slowly finding the will to get herself fully in check. She’d been hoping to have a little more time to find words for this. “Charlie,” she says softly, pulling away so she can look down at her daughter.

            Charlotte looks up at her, apprehension all over her face, covering a stern resolve to be strong.

            “Sweetheart, why do think you need to leave?”

            “So you can be with the Doctor,” Charlotte tells her, as if it’s a completely rational response. “You should get to be with him.”

            “And I can’t do that with you here?” River wonders.

            “Well, I—I’ll be in the way,” Charlotte mumbles.

            “And who told you that?”

            “Nobody,” Charlotte replies, startled. “I just figured—well, it’s been so long, and I thought you’d want time without me around, because I’m not—just because.”

            She is far too overwhelmed to be eloquent right now. But she supposes that’s part of being a parent—coping with imperfect timing. She’s certainly had practice, she figures as she hears a cup break in the kitchen.

            “Sorry!” the Doctor calls out, glancing back at her with a sheepish smile.

            She simply shakes her head and looks down at Charlotte. “Charlotte Abigail Lux Pond,” she says firmly, watching as Charlotte’s eyes go wide and her shoulders relax. “Did you think for even a second that just because my husband came home you suddenly weren’t my daughter anymore?”

            “No,” Charlotte mumbles. River waits until she looks back up, her lip between her teeth.

            “Charlie.”

            “I just—what if he doesn’t like me? What if he hates me, and doesn’t want to be here, and then he leaves and you lose him and it’s all my fault?” she exclaims in a rushed whisper.

            “Oh, dear,” River lets out, reaching forward to curl the girl back against her chest. “First of all, that’s ridiculous. Who wouldn’t love you?” River says, squeezing Charlotte tighter as she shakes her head. “Secondly, he’s here for good, darling, unless you’ve developed the ability to bring back the dead while I’ve been busy making a garden. Have you?”

            Charlotte mumbles a no, clearly indicating that she thinks River’s a tad ridiculous.

            “Alright, well, if you haven’t done that, there’s really no way for him to leave, no matter what anyone does.” Charlotte opens her mouth but River puts a finger to her lips. “Thirdly, no matter how he feels about you, you are my daughter, and you’re staying right here.” Charlotte stares at her, her eyes searching River’s. She has so many things she wants to say, so many promises she wants to make until Charlotte’s eyes clear and she _believes_ her when she says this is for forever. But  she’s a bit off her game tonight. “Which one of you has a room here, hm?”

            Charlotte cracks a small smile but shakes her head. “Mum—”

“But, it won’t come to that. I know he’s going to love you just like I do.”

            “But—”

            “You know how I know that?” Charlotte shakes her head.

            “You’re a Pond,” the Doctor says, startling them both so much they nearly topple off the couch. He grins and braces his arms on the back of the couch, looking down at Charlotte. “And I have always been a sucker for a Pond.”

            Charlotte gapes like a fish, her mouth opening and closing as River re-situates them on the couch and squeezes the girl’s hands. “See?”

            Charlotte looks between them, her cheeks slowly going pink before she launches herself forward to hide in River’s neck, her arms wrapped around her shoulders. River laughs quietly and looks up at the Doctor who watches the two of them with soft eyes.

            “The tea’s ready,” he tells them.

            “Charlie, can we go into the kitchen for tea?” River asks, stroking her daughter’s back. Charlie shakes her head slowly and clutches her tighter. “I believe we’ll be taking tea in here, sweetie,” she tells the Doctor.

            “Your wish is my command,” he says, bowing deeply before he spins back toward the kitchen and places their cups and saucers on a plate.

            River watches apprehensively as he makes his way back to them, half expecting him to drop everything. But, he makes it, giving her a significant look as though he knows exactly what she was thinking, and hands her a mug—her TARDIS mug. Smug bastard.

            He grins around his own and River shifts, leaning back against his arm with Charlotte curled up on her lap. “Tea, Charlie?”

            The girl merely sighs and cuddles closer. River lets her hand rest on her back and smiles when she realizes the girl’s falling asleep. She looks up at the Doctor as he shifts to get his arm around her shoulders, his hand landing on the back of Charlotte’s head. She watches as he strokes his fingers through her daughter’s hair.

            They sit quietly for a long while. Charlotte falls asleep on top of her and the Doctor moves his hand into her hair instead, making her sigh as he toys with her curls. He smiles and leans in to press his lips to her cheek, and she’s reminded of their quiet nights together.  

So much of their life was spent running, sprinting together through danger and trouble and mayhem. But there were the nights, too, when they would sit in the TARDIS kitchen, swapping stories, nights when they would lounge in his den on the couch and he would read aloud, nights when they would lie in bed together and cuddle without a word and without sleep. She tends to remember the adventuring with more clarity, but now, with his arm around her and his nose against her temple, she feels those memories flare in welcome of her reality.

            “She’s something, isn’t she?” he asks, breaking their silence.

            “Charlotte?” River wonders, bringing her mind back to the present. He nods. “She’s brilliant,” River says proudly. “Clever and quick and funny. I think—I’ve always thought the two of you would get along like thieves.”

            He smiles and presses his temple to hers. “I’m sure we will.”

            She feels her eyes fill again and sighs. He nudges her with his nose in question and she bites at her lip, lifting her eyes to meet his as he pulls away. “I never thought I’d get the chance to find out,” she admits. “And I just—I find I’m rather out of practice with reuniting.”

            “You’re perfect,” he says and she laughs quietly. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” he adds.

            She squeezes his hand. “You’re rarely on time, dear.”

            He huffs at her but leans in and kisses her ear all the same. “I’m glad you have her.”

            River looks down at Charlotte. “Me too.”

            “And I’m sorry for not,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “For not being able to give this to you before.”

            She blinks and turns to meet his eyes. “Give me what, darling?”

            “A child, a family—”

            She feels his hand squeeze hers, his eyes filled with regret. “I have it now,” she says. “And I did then with you and Amy and Rory. You were my family. You _are_ my family,” she insists.

            “But your parents—”

            “Dear,” she says softly. “We’ve been over and over Manhattan.”

            “It’s been a long time since then,” he mumbles. “And I’m rather out of practice.”

            She smiles and stretches to press her mouth to his. “No more tonight then. We’ll do it another time.” He nods as she pulls away, and she giggles as his eyes suddenly sparkle. “Yes, that too.”

            He laughs and grins at her. “Oh, I’ve missed you,” he tells her, tugging playfully at one of her curls. “You bad, bad girl.”

            She simply smirks and releases his hand to drag her nails up his thigh, watching smugly as he shudders. His eyes find hers, suddenly dark, and she releases him, taking back her hand to rub at Charlotte’s back.

            “You’re cruel,” he decides.

            “What else is new?” she wonders, fighting a laugh as he pouts at her.

            Charlotte shifts in her lap, restless. River cards her fingers through her hair, humming lightly until the girl settles out.

            “Are we bothering her?” the Doctor asks.

            “I doubt it,” River tells him, looking down at her daughter’s face. “The TARDIS coming through woke her, and she’s probably just recovering.”

            “Recovering,” he repeats.

            “She has—it’s funny that she can fly the TARDIS, you know. The whole mainframe, the whole Library—”

            “In her head,” he lets out. “I’d forgotten.”

            “And so when you came through—”

            “All of time and space,” he completes. “No wonder she’s out.”

            “She’ll be fine,” River assures him. “Might take a few days, but she’ll be fine.”

            “If I’d known it would—well I would have tried to keep—I would have at least protested when Sexy came through too.”

            “Oh, no,” River says quickly. “I’m so looking forward to seeing her again, and showing Charlotte everywhere. I’ll finally have time to make that map.”

            “What map?” he asks, sinking into the couch, his body finally relaxing.

            “Ages ago, I tried to put a map into my diary, but every time I went to reference it, something had disappeared. Maybe now that you’re here, it’ll all stay the same.”

            He scoffs and curls his fingers back into her hair. “She’ll be bored now, and what do you think she’ll do in her spare time.”

            “Oh dear. And I thought getting through all of literature would take a while.”

            “Too big a challenge for you, Professor?” he asks, snickering as she whacks his thigh.

            “I’m always up for a challenge,” she grouses, even as a yawn splits her face.

            “It seems to me, dear, that you’re more up for a good sleep.”

            River shakes her head but finds her eyelids fluttering all the same. Of course, the one time she wants to be awake, she feels the urge to sleep.

            “Did it wake you?” he asks softly a few minutes later, when his shoulder has become her pillow and his heartbeats her lullaby.

            “Charlotte did, but I could feel it too, the buzzing.” He sighs and she turns her head. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

            He gives her a soft smile and brushes his lips against her cheek. “Come along, Song,” he says instead, slipping out from behind her to stand.

He leans down and hoists Charlotte out of her arms before she can protest, then waits as she stands, swaying into him for a moment before she gets her footing.

“Upstairs?” he whispers, nodding to the girl curled against his chest, her arm around his neck and face mashed into his shoulder.

“Across from ours,” she replies, her face splitting in a smile at the fact that her room is their room again.

He beams back at her then starts for the stairs, leaving her to trail after him, watching as he carefully carries her daughter up the stairs and down the hall. He pushes the door to Charlotte’s room open and pauses on the threshold.

“River,” he breathes.

She presses up behind him, arching up to rest her chin on his shoulder as he stares at the room. She knows, knows that he never knew she’d seen it on the TARDIS, never knew it had crossed her mind.

“Let’s put her down,” she prompts after a few minutes.

He startles then moves into the room and lays the girl down in her bed, drawing the blankets over her with reverence. River watches, her heart in her throat as he smoothes out her daughter’s hair then straightens, his hand curling around the bedpost—around the same golden knob she’d curled his hand around so many years ago.

“Pond,” he whispers, turning to face her with shiny eyes. “River.”

She holds out her hand and draws him away from the bed, walking toward the door before she pauses and turns on the twinkle lights she and Charlotte added weeks ago. The ceiling ignites, the stars turning into flecks of real light, casting the room in a warm glow. She closes the door in front of them and picks up the chalk tied to a string to scribble on the message board Charlotte said was totally necessary, even though she herself couldn’t reach it without standing on a chair.

_In our room, sweetheart. Come get us when you wake up._

The Doctor squeezes her hip as she carefully drops the chalk and guides him out of the room. She closes the door and they stand in the dimly lit hallway, hands entwined. He leans forward to press his forehead to hers. She feels him suck in a breath, ready to speak, but the words don’t seem to come.

After a quiet minute, she squeezes his hands and slowly guides them into her room. He comes to a halt as she turns and closes the door. She joins him in the middle of the room, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him as he looks around at their bedroom, bathed in the bright moonlight that filters through the window.

“Our,” he manages, his fingers brushing at hers until they tangle together. “This is from your, from our—” he trails off.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“How?” he asks, turning to look at her. “How does—did you do this, did she do this?”

“A little of both,” River tells him, releasing his hand to reach up to his collar. She gently undoes his bowtie, smiling at the familiar feel of it beneath her finger tips. “The bed was in the main building. I assume she built it from my memories. It took me days to lie down.”

He makes a choked sound as she gets the knot undone and leaves the tie hanging around his neck. His fingers brush at her sides, ghosting over her pale blue nightgown as she pulls his braces from his shoulders.

“And the house—she took all of our hands and sort of let us make what we wanted. A kind of wishing,” she muses as she moves on to his buttons, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath her hands. “And with me, I didn’t even think about it, and it happened.”

“It’s home,” he gets out.

She hums and undoes his last button, tugging his shirt from his slacks with a small grin. “It was this or the TARDIS,” she admits, leaning forward to brush her lips over his collarbone.

He shivers under her touch and his hands grip at her waist, hauling her into him as his mouth presses to hers. She sighs into him, reaching up to slip his shirt down his shoulders. She laughs as it catches at his forearms; he won’t let go of her.

“Sweetie,” she mumbles against his mouth as he tugs her closer.

“No,” he grunts back, trying to wrap himself around her. She hears the tell-tale rip of fabric and clutches at him as he stumbles with the split.

“I liked that one,” she says, pulling her head back to pout up at him.

“More in the TARDIS,” he says as he bends his head to trail his lips up her neck.

 

*

She lets out a breathy moan and forgets all about his shirt, and her nightgown, and everything but the sound of the ocean out their window and the feeling of his body finally there on top of her, beside her, surrounding her.

She remembers this—remembers the feel of him. She remembers finding the TARDIS, wearing only a trench coat, remembers being picked up from Stormcage and never making it to their destination. She remembers not being able to even look at the console for weeks without blushing, worse when Rory kept toying with it and all she could think of was their anniversary and a celebration that barely passed the jump seat.

But here, now, he kisses her so sweetly, his hands reverent and soft against her, agonizingly slow. She can’t seem to care, too wrapped in drawing her hands over familiar planes and muscles and divots, committing every inch of him to memory. He worships her body, bringing her crashing over suddenly, a sob on her lips as he presses kisses into her temple, onto her eyelids, her cheeks. 

She can’t seem to catch her breath, her hearts beating heavily in her chest as she recovers, coming back to herself as his hands stroke over her skin, soothing and loving, his face nestled next to her own, his lips at her ear. But she doesn’t want to recover, she wants the feeling of him all around her. She smiles and turns her head to kiss him before she tugs him over her, grinning at his squeak of surprise.

He stalls above her, opening his mouth in question, but can’t seem to speak. She nods at him, her own words stuck in her throat. He smiles and shifts over her, his eyes gazing into her own as he sinks into her. He leans down and kisses the gasp from her mouth, both of them still and awed, the moment too precious to break. After a few long, perfect seconds, he pulls back and rubs his nose against hers as he begins to move. Her eyelids flutter but she forces them open, unwilling to miss even a second of this.

They re-learn each other slowly, words passing quietly between kisses and panted breath, their foreheads pressed together. He whispers Gallifreyan in her ear, murmurs of love and regret and relief flowing out in the language they share together. And she presses his name into his mouth, his cheek, his ear, his hands, over and over until they come apart, tears on both of their faces.

            He holds himself above her on trembling arms as she dries his cheeks, his eyes hooded and full. “River,” he whispers, turning his face to kiss her hand, nuzzling into her palm.

            “My love.” She smiles up at him, laughing softly when he bends to kiss away the tear tracks on her cheeks. “Oh, I’ve missed you.” He grins and slowly falls down to rest on top of her for a moment before he goes to shift off of her. “No,” she mumbles, tightening her arms around his back.

            “I’m crushing you,” he protests.

            “Yes,” she says, smiling into his hair as he drops his face to her neck with a huff. But she can feel him smile and relax on top of her.

            And if she can’t breathe properly, she doesn’t really need to, does she?

            “Digital suffocation can be just as detrimental as the real thing,” he mumbles, pulling back to look down at her with a grin.

            She gasps and swats at his back, feeling herself teetering on the edge of tears yet _again_. Damn him.

            His eyes twinkle as he bends down to press their temples together. She sighs as the rush overtakes her mind, his energy pouring into her, their consciousness mixing and swirling in the silence of their bedroom.

            And for the first time, there are no blocks, no whispered pauses, no broken connections. No spoilers.

            As their minds meld so do their bodies, and the second time leaves them both gasping, twice as intense, their pleasure magnified and multiplied. She bites at his shoulder to keep from screaming. He nearly bruises with his grip, tight and harried and needy. When they finish, they fall back to the bed in a panting heap, and their connection breaks. They end up side by side, staring up at the ceiling as their breath returns, the tips of their fingers linked together.

            “I’ve missed that,” River says after a long while. The Doctor giggles and she nudges him with their hands. “Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

            “Oh, my dear wife,” he says with a flourish, turning to wrap his arm around her, spooning her from behind so they can stare out the window together. “I wouldn’t even try.”

            She laces her fingers through his and stares out at the ocean, shimmering in the moonlight. She feels him settle behind her, his breath falling warm against the back of her neck, each one coming more slowly.

            “When was the last time you slept, my love?” she whispers.

            His only response is a muffled grunt and she smiles, tugging his arm tighter around her middle. She snuggles back against him and listens as he falls asleep behind her, his leg threaded between hers, his hand large on her stomach, his breath tickling her neck, blowing at her curls. Slowly, sleep over takes her, and she sinks into sweet oblivion with her husband beside her.

 

 


	9. Tell Me About It

She wakes later to the sound of whispers too close to her head. She groans and shifts, some muddled part of her mind noting that she’s wearing a nightgown she definitely wasn’t in when she fell asleep.

            “You’ll wake your mum.”

            “You’re the one who was tickling me!”

            “Well it’s unkind to say someone has a big chin.”

            “You said my hair was too flat! Not everyone can have hair like mum’s.”

            “That is true. It’s magic.”

            “Neither of you have any ounce of subtlety,” she announces, rolling over to face her husband and daughter, who are cuddled up next to her. Charlotte lies between them, her head resting on the Doctor’s outstretched arm as he toys with River’s curls.

            “Sorry mum,” they say together before bursting into giggles.

            She knew they would get on like a house fire. She didn’t, however, anticipate them waking her up when she’s only gotten—“Is it really gone one in the afternoon?”

            “Mhmm,” the Doctor says, arching an eyebrow at her as Charlotte snuggles down between them, cuddling into her side as River rests her head on her hand and looks up at her husband.

            “And how long have the two of you been up?” she asks, shooting a smile down at her daughter.

            “Charlie came in at what, maybe noon?” he says, exchanging a look with Charlotte.

            “I was really tired,” Charlotte says by way of response. “He was just sitting there watching you.”

            “Charlie,” the Doctor exclaims, a light flush on his cheeks.

            “And he made me wait to come in, so you could put on clothes,” Charlotte adds, wrinkling her nose. But her eyes are impish and River laughs, giving her a fast tickle for her cheek.

            “That’s why the knock was invented, dear,” River tells her, grinning as the Doctor huffs, seemingly affronted.

            “That’s not true. Don’t tell her that,” he says quickly. “The knock was not invented because people were—oh.”

            “Indeed, sweetie,” River says as Charlotte looks between them. “But, best to dodge that subject. What are we having for breakfast, or lunch, I suppose?” she asks, looking to Charlotte while her husband gets over the fact that knocking and sex might be indelibly linked.

            “Waffles!” Charlotte says immediately. “Please?”

            “I think we can do waffles,” River agrees, looking up at the Doctor. “Will waffles suit you, dear?”

            He beams at her and nods emphatically, bending to press a fast kiss to her mouth before he slides out of bed and shrugs on a robe waiting for him on the door of the armoire.

            “Did you make this?” he asks, glancing at Charlotte. She nods. “It’s brilliant. Thank you.”

            Charlotte blushes and burrows further into River’s side, making both of them laugh.

            “Ingredients are in the kitchen?” he asks.

            “You’re making breakfast?” she asks, slightly incredulous.

            “Oi! I make a great breakfast.” River merely arches an eyebrow. “I made you breakfast, a few times. There was that one after you’d been nearly killed in that Sontaran battle—you said it was fabulous.”

            River nods at him, smiling. It had been…edible. But he’d made such an effort, she couldn’t help but love it a bit.

            The Doctor grins and strides out of the room, leaving River and Charlotte alone in the big bed, listening as he whistles his way down the stairs.

            “You’ll doctor it up for us if the Doctor can’t, won’t you?” River whispers to Charlotte.

            The girl nods before breaking into peals of giggles, forcing River to join in. After a moment, they settle back out and River relaxes against the sheets, looking down at her daughter.

            “How are you, darling?” she asks as Charlotte stretches.

            “M’good, mummy. Are you?”

            “I’m fantastic,” she tells her, tapping her nose lightly. “Do you feel well? All that time and space sitting well in your head?”

            Charlotte nods slowly. “It’s different,” she admits. “But it’s getting quieter. I think it’ll end up being like the books.”

            “Where you can draw it up at will and put it back when you want to?”

            “Yeah,” Charlotte agrees.

            River smiles and brushes a stray hair from Charlotte’s forehead. To have all of time and space at her disposal—what a child. “Oh, the Doctor will hate that,” she thinks out loud.

            “Hate what?”

            “You being quicker than he is.”

            “What?” Charlotte looks mildly panicked and River sighs, shaking her head at her daughter.

            “He’ll actually think it’s marvelous, but he’ll be insufferable about it.”

            “About what?” Charlotte insists.

            “Well, you see, the Doctor has all of this memory clouding his mind, and so when he thinks of all of time and space, sometimes he gets it a little wrong. But you can pull it up like an encyclopedia. It’ll drive him a bit mad when you can think of things before he can. But it’ll be such fun.”

            “He won’t hate me?” she whispers.

            “Not at all dear,” River say immediately, giving her a quick squeeze. “He’ll love it, and love you. Now, how about we freshen up and then go see how my husband’s doing with breakfast, lunch, whatever it is?”

            “Okay.”

            River smiles and follows her daughter out of bed, sending her out of the room with a pat on the head and a smile. The Doctor may be in just a robe and his pants, but she dons a sundress, popping and rebuttoning her third button twice before leaving it open. She’s gotten used to dressing demurely—as demure as she ever gets—for her daughter. But she supposes a little more cleavage won’t scar Charlotte forever, and the look on the Doctor’s face just might be worth it.

            Humming, she goes about freshening up and trying to do something with her hair. Eventually, she tosses it up on top of her head with a huff; it’s utterly unmanageable. She knows within three minutes of seeing her, the Doctor will go and take it down anyway, but at least she’ll feel like she’s made some sort of effort.

            “Ready, mummy?” Charlotte calls, leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom.

            River comes out of the bathroom and smiles at her daughter. Charlotte takes her hand and leads her downstairs, babbling excitedly about all of the things they just _have_ to show the Doctor.

            “Almost ready,” he announces as they enter the kitchen.

            She grins as she spots the places he’s set at the island. He never did like eating at the dinning room table; the stools at the island were far too enticing. It makes her chest swell to see the miss-matched plates set out with their respective mugs. He seems to have found the large red one he used to love, years ago.

            It actually smells amazing.

            “I told you I can cook,” he whispers, making her shiver as he passes her, plates laden with waffles in his hands. “Sit, ladies.”

            She and Charlotte oblige, clambering onto the stools as he pours juice for them, spinning around for tea a moment later.

            “Eat.”

            Charlotte grins and digs into her plate, groaning around a mouthful. River waits until he sits down beside her, too busy watching her daughter practically inhale her waffles. The Doctor can make waffles—sinful waffles, if Charlotte’s exuberance is anything to go by.

            “Go on then,” he says, nudging her.

            River turns and considers him for a moment before cutting into her own stack and dragging them through the syrup. He watches her with avid interest as she takes her first bite, immediately moaning. Good Lord, he can make waffles. He makes the best waffles she’s ever tasted.

            “When did you learn to cook?” she demands as she takes another hasty bite. “These are delicious.”

            He laughs, so inordinately pleased with himself as he cuts off his own bite. “I’ve had four hundred years, dear.”

            “And in the first twelve hundred you learned to make passable toast and a decent grilled cheese,” she shoots back, smiling as Charlotte giggles into her juice.

            “I got bored this time around,” he defends, licking syrup from his finger before darting his eyes to her chest.

            “Apparently.”

            “Are you saying you’d rather I not exercise my culinary talents?”

            “No!” she and Charlotte exclaim in unison. Oh, damn, he’ll be utterly smug.

            “Then quiet down and eat,” he says, smirking at her. River rolls her eyes but goes back to her breakfast. “Now, about this tour I’m getting,” the Doctor says, leaning around her to look at Charlotte. “Where are we starting?”

 

(…)

 

            The first time Charlotte teleports them, River thinks the Doctor’s eyes might actually pop out of his head.

            “You—but—we—” he stumbles out, spinning around in a circle as they stand in the middle of the Library courtyard. “We were at your house.”

            “And now we’re here,” River says easily, patting his arm. “Really, for a Time Lord, this is a little pathetic.”

            “But you just—what, wished us here?”

            Charlotte nods proudly, obviously delighting in being able to baffle the Doctor. “It’s easy.”

            “But it’s not possible!”

            “It just happened, sweetie. So obviously, it is.”

            “I just—I—” he glares at the both of them for a moment before huffing and turning round to take in the space. “Where are we, then?”

            “The Library courtyard,” Charlotte tells him. “Before everyone wanted houses, we lived in that side,” she adds, pointing to the right side of the courtyard. “But now there’s more books in there.”

            “Oh, you got rid of it?” River asks, oddly sad at the thought. She loves her house with Charlotte and now with her husband, but she has a soft spot for that first room, for her archeology library.

            “Your library is still there,” Charlotte says, reaching out to hold River’s hand. “But I could bring it to the house if you want.”

            “Your library?” the Doctor asks.

            “Mummy’s archeology library,” Charlotte tells him, as if he’s a little bit slow, bless her.

            “An archeology library? Whatever for? I could tell you a bunch of bad facts and be done with it.”

            “Archeology is cool!” Charlotte exclaims before River can even open her mouth. “And mummy’s a brilliant archeologist. She corrects the books and everything.”

            The Doctor goes from cowed to delighted in a second, beaming at River. “You still do that?”

            River nods, biting her lip, feeling oddly shy. It had been their game together—passing notes through thousands of years, little corrections in Gallifreyan or code only they could understand. But she never knew if it meant as much to him as it did to her.

            “Show me sometime?” he asks eagerly.

            “If you’d like,” she gets out, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice.

            He grins and tugs the tie out of her hair, causing it to tumble down to just below her shoulders. “It’s longer,” he observes as Charlotte begins leading them out of the courtyard.

            “It was like this the last time we saw each other,” she says absently.

            “Was not,” he mumbles, as he slings his arm over her shoulders to wrap a curl around his finger.

            “It—oh, well, when was the last time you saw me?” she wonders, glancing at him only to see his jaw tighten. “Well, not me, me, but younger me?”

            “You were at University,” he says quietly, shooting Charlotte a smile as she spins around, a few feet ahead of them. “Where are we headed next?” he calls out.

            “The river!” Charlotte replies, spinning round again to skip ahead of them.

            “Was—the night you came just before my finals, and I yelled at you?” she asks when Charlotte gets a ways ahead of them.

            He simply leans in and kisses her cheek. “You were adorable.”

            “I was horrid,” she groans. “Absolutely horrid.”

            “Yes, well, I still made off with the better end of the deal. And you kissed me goodbye, actually.”

            “If trying to ravish you rather aggressively against my dorm room door counts as a kiss goodbye,” River muses, smiling at the memory. “Oh, you so got the better end of the deal.”

            “I’m sure I would have—well, a good snog wouldn’t have been out of the question on your end either,” he says, laughing as she swats at his side.

            “You would have hated it.”

            “Not true!” he insists. “I could never hate kissing you.”

            She turns to look at him as they come up on the river bank where Charlotte waits, hands on her hips, impatient with their slow progress.

            “You’ve become a sap in your old age,” she tells him, reaching up to fiddle with his floppy hair.

            “You love it,” he argues.

            “I’ll push you both in the river if you don’t stop being mushy,” Charlotte threatens, grinning as they laugh and turn their attention back to her.

            “Sorry, dear,” the Doctor says, releasing River’s side to stand beside her daughter. “So, this is the river.”

            “Yep,” Charlotte says, glancing down into it. “We could go on a boat ride.”

            “But there’s no—”

            The Doctor yelps as a dock and a canoe appear in the water, the river widening to accommodate the changes.

            River laughs and pats his back as he takes deep breaths. “Honestly, sweetie.”

            “You’ve had time to get used to all the—the—she’s magic!”

            “I’m not magic,” Charlotte snorts, giggling into her hands. “You’re so silly.”

            “You’re—well, you’re certainly something,” he offers as he calms down. “And you condone this? This—this—random object making?”

            “I…frown on unexpected large gestures,” River says, giving Charlotte a look. But the girl completely ignores her, grinning back with a sparkle in her eye. “But watching you jump is rather fun.”           

            “Oh, I hate you,” he growls.

            “No you don’t,” she says with a grin. “Now, Charlie. A boat ride, really? Shouldn’t we introduce him to the others first?” Charlotte gives her a startled look, almost caught, as if—oh. “How about a boat ride over to Evie’s? Then we’ll give Anita and Dave a call, hm? And then tonight maybe the three of us will explore the TARDIS.”           

            Charlotte beams at her and nods excitedly. “Can we? We can, right Doctor?”

            “Of course,” he says, seemingly done with his pout. “Now, will you teach me how to steer this thing? I’m not that good with a paddle.”

            River covers a snort with a cough as she follows them into the canoe, grabbing a paddle for herself as she steadies Charlotte and gets her sitting in the middle of the boat with the Doctor at the front.

            “What?” he asks, turning his head to look back at her. “I’ve—oh, shut up, River.”

            “Did I say something?” she asks innocently, images of a very water-logged kayaking trip with her parents flooding her head. He’s not a particularly graceful swimmer either.

            “You paddle on your side, mummy on hers, and we’ll go forward,” Charlotte says easily. “Right?”

            “Right,” River agrees, watching as her gangly husband helps her push off from the dock. The tide picks them up immediately and they begin to whip down the river. “Or the tide does it for us. Charlie, are you—”

            “Nope,” Charlotte says innocently. “I would say first.”           

            “Liar,” River says, nudging her with her toes.

            Charlotte merely grins and watches as they move gently down the river, passing great sweeping fields and groves of trees. River looks around with the same awe as her husband. She’s not seen these views.

            “Charlie,” she reprimands. She must be making them as they go.

            “They’ve always been here,” Charlie says immediately. “You just haven’t seen.”

            “Saving the special treatment for the Doctor. I see,” River says, laughing as Charlotte turns startled eyes on her.

            “No, I—”

            “Darling, I’m kidding,” she tells her daughter, smiling as she huffs.

            “You’re mean.”

            “She is,” the Doctor agrees as they come around a large bend bringing Evie and Dave’s cottage in sight.

            “Shush, you,” River calls out to her husband.

            “What? You’ve already told her about me. It’s unfair.”

            “Just the funny things,” Charlotte interjects. “She won’t tell me the bad things, even when I ask.”

            The Doctor turns his head to look back at her, and for once, she can’t decode the look on his face. “Well, there’s nothing bad about your mum, so I guess we’re even,” he says after a moment.

            The boat nudges gently at the shore and they jostle. Charlotte tosses a rope out of it, catching on a peg that sprouts from the ground before she hops out of the boat and waits impatiently for them on the bank. The Doctor jumps out ahead of her and extends his hand back, taking her hand in his to help her out of the boat, utterly unnecessary, but sweet all the same.           

            “Thank you, dear,” she says as they begin walking up the hill from the bank to Evie and Dave’s house.

            He doesn’t release her hand, merely raising it to his lips for a brief kiss before tugging her after him as he scampers after Charlotte.

            “Evie!” Charlotte calls as they reach the top of the hill. “Evie, Dave, come quick!”

            River shakes her head at her daughter as they hear clattering inside. “You’ll frighten them, dear.”

            “They’ll be too busy kissing otherwise,” Charlotte says with a put-upon sigh.

            “Charlotte,” River chides, holding back a laugh.

            The Doctor makes no such effort and turns to her with delighted eyes. “Miss Evangelista and Proper Dave? Really?”

            “We’ve been here a while,” River says, patting his cheek as he frowns at her. “And they’re a good fit.”

            “What on earth are you yelling ab—” Evie says as she stumbles onto the porch, stopping mid word to stare at the Doctor. “Dave!”

            “What? Is Charlotte alrig—”

            They stand there gaping as the Doctor waves jovially. “Hello again! Different face, obviously. But you look exactly the same. So good to see you.”

            He jumps up the stairs and hugs them each in turn, oblivious to their stiff limbs and hanging jaws. The Doctor then takes the four stairs at a leap, stumbles and stands straight as he looks up at them.

            “Wonderful house. Well done, Charlie,” he says as Charlotte steps up beside him.

            “Thanks.”

            “You’re—you’re here,” Proper Dave says. “But you don’t—is this the right one, then?” he asks, looking to River as she slowly joins her husband and daughter by the bottom of the steps.

            “Yes. This is my overly effusive husband. Doctor, you remember Evie and Proper Dave.”

            “Of course I do,” he says happily. “Glad to see you’re here. Figured with all the fuss, I should come and check it out.”

            River slaps his side and he laughs, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

            “You’re, well, you’re dead then,” Evie wonders as she slowly relaxes next to Dave. “Sorry. I mean—”

            “As a doornail,” the Doctor says easily. “But I set up a link and got the TARDIS to bring me to the mainframe and send me in. Got in last night.”

            “Explains the moon,” Proper Dave says softly, taking Evie’s hand. “And you were worried.”

            “Well it was unnatural,” she argues, nudging him. “So,” she adds, meeting River’s eyes as the Doctor toys with one of her curls. “Good night?”

            River laughs and Charlotte giggles. “He showed up on the beach, Evie,” Charlotte enthuses. “And later we’re going to tour the TARDIS. He promised. And it looks just like mummy said it did!”

            “That’s wonderful,” Evie tells Charlotte. “And how do you feel? Must have been quite the surge.”

            “I feel amazing!”

            “She’s been a bundle of energy all afternoon,” River offers, laughing as Charlotte leans around the Doctor to scowl at her. “You have.”

            “Mum,” Charlotte hisses.

            The Doctor barely conceals a laugh, turning his head into her hair to stifle his smile. Charlotte gives them both a look then bounds up the stairs to whispers with Evie and Dave. River steps back from the Doctor and tries to give him a stern looking, failing when she catches the glimmer in his eye.

            “Behave,” she whispers.

            “Make me,” he says back.

            “Maybe I will.” He smirks. “Later.”

            “Spoilsport,” he mumbles as Evie and Dave accompany Charlotte down the stairs.

(…)

                       

            Meeting the others is a louder affair.

            Josh and Ella practically climb all over the Doctor, bursting with questions. Other Dave nearly joins them in excitement, half corralling his kids, half egging them on. Her husband takes it in stride, running around with them as Charlotte trails slowly after them, smiling at their antics.

            “So he’s here,” Anita says softly, standing at her side by the edge of the playground.

            “Yes,” River replies, and she can hear the happiness in the single syllable.

            “And he’s the right one? Your Doctor?”

            “Yes,” River repeats with a smile. “My gangly, clumsy Doctor.” The Doctor tumbles to the ground, tripping over something. The kids rush him, flopping down on top of him and giggling at his over-blown, “Oof!”

            “You look—you look fantastic,” Anita says, bringing her attention away from the jumble of children on the playground.

            River blushes and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”

            “And Charlotte?”

            River smiles and catches a glimpse of her daughter riding on the Doctor’s back, holding his sonic over his shoulder as he sprints up the steps of the taller play set, Josh, Ella, and Dave in hot pursuit.

            “She’s happy I’m happy, and they’re getting along swimmingly,” River says, turning back to Anita. “I think—I hope they continue to.”

            “And you?” Anita asks, giving her a sly grin.

            “I’m—I feel fantastic,” River admits. “Just—yes, wonderful.”

            “He’s not what I imagined,” Evie offers as she walks over to join them, leaving Proper Dave by the table of snacks Charlotte simply insisted they had to have.

            “The way you spoke about him,” she continues with a small blush. “Well—”

            “He does stumble more than I imagined,” Anita adds with a laugh.

            “It grows on you,” River says, smiling at them both. “But yes, he doesn’t always look the part, but he’s—” she looks back at her husband. “He’s everything.”

            Anita squeezes her hand then laughs as Other Dave and the Doctor manage to pick up all three children and whirl them about.

            “I have a feeling he’ll be a terrible influence on Dave,” Anita remarks.

            “Oh, I’m sure,” River says with a laugh. “As much a child as all of them.”

            “And yet not, judging by that glow you’ve got going.”

            “Anita,” River protests as both women laugh. “Shut up.”

            “Oh, dear, it’s wonderful,” Evie says, patting her shoulder. “You deserve it.”

            “Agreed,” Anita says. “It seemed so unfair that you ended up alone, and all of us…not.”

            “I’ve never been alone.” River meets Charlotte’s eyes as she sneaks up on the Doctor, a finger pressed to her lips and a grin on her face.

            “But it’s not the same,” Evie says softly.

            “No,” River agrees, laughing as her daughter fails to surprise her husband and the two of them fall to the ground in a skirmish. “But now it’s—I get both and that’s—” she trails off, seemingly lost for words.

            “It is, isn’t it?” Anita says with a small laugh.

            “What are you three talking about, then?” Proper Dave asks, walking up to them with a napkin full of biscuits.

            “Men,” they reply at once, laughing as he scowls at them.

 


	10. Perks

“Why is the library in the pool?” Charlotte asks as she wanders the edge, staring up at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that line the walls.

            “It—well—it’s complicated,” the Doctor mumbles as he leans against the doorjamb. River laughs. “It is!”

            “The TARDIS sometimes reconfigures herself when the console changes,” River explains. “And when the Doctor regenerated from ten to eleven, it was rather explosive.”

            “Because of the radiation,” Charlotte says, nodding along.

            “You told her?” the Doctor asks.

            “Yes,” River says dismissively. “So, anyway, while the TARDIS was crashing, eventually ending up at Amy’s house, the library kind of…migrated.”

            “But didn’t you have to get rid of the swimming pool to go outside of the Universe?” Charlotte asks, looking back at them.

            “River,” the Doctor groans.

            “What? It helped explain the whole sentient ship thing.”

            He sighs and then looks back at her daughter. “I did, but it came back.”           

            “With the library in it,” Charlotte concludes.

            The Doctor squirms a little beside her and River gives him a look. “Ah—yes,” he says.

“And you never put it back?” Charlotte wonders, returning to stand in front of them.

            “It’s cool like this,” he argues, gesturing around them. “And I couldn’t move the library without moving the pool, and I needed the double doors at the other end because someone,” he glances significantly in River’s direction, “had a penchant for diving off buildings and landing in my pool.”

            “You loved it,” she says, grinning as Charlotte laughs.

            “And you kept it even after mummy was gone?” Charlotte asks.

            The Doctor stiffens for a moment then relaxes, nodding at the girl. “I like it like this.”

            River squeezes his hand and pushes off from the wall, bringing him with her. “What shall we see next?”

            Charlotte bounces on her toes, grinning up at them. “What’s best?”

            “Ooh, we could play squash,” the Doctor says, leading them out of the room. “Haven’t done that in a while.”

            “What’s squash?” Charlotte asks as she and River trail after the Doctor as he leads them down a series of twisting hallways.

            “What’s squash?” he repeats, indignant. “River, what have you been teaching your daughter?”           

            “Darling, you can barely play,” River says with a laugh. “It’s a sport rather like tennis,” she tells Charlotte. “But played against a wall.”

            “I don’t like tennis,” Charlotte says, wrinkling her nose.

            “It’s _like_ tennis,” the Doctor grumbles. “But fine. We’ll go see something else.”

            “We can see the squash courts,” Charlotte says instantly.

            River shakes her head at her over-eager-to-please daughter, but the Doctor merely smiles and beckons them onward. He stops and opens a random door and bursts into laughter.

            “Well, this used to be a squash court,” he says, turning to grin at them. “I think she heard you, Charlie.”

            River nudges Charlotte forward and crowds behind her to see into the room, which has become an enormous bouncy castle.

            “Oh dear,” River mutters as Charlotte lets out a squeal and bolts forward, disappearing into the multi-roomed, multi-floored inflatable, bouncing structure inside the court.

            It shakes and shifts with her daughter’s movements, bright blues and greens and purple panels nearly vibrating as Charlotte shrieks and laughs inside.

            “Should we join her?” the Doctor asks as he slides a hand along her waist.

            “It’s just the one court, right?” River asks, reaching out to touch the wall. The TARDIS hums beneath her hand and River sighs. “Just the one. Personally, darling, I’d rather not spend the next day getting static out of my hair.”

            The Doctor laughs and uses the hand on her waist to spin her into his chest, leaning down to claim her lips before she can even squeak. She sighs into him and laces her arms up around his neck, smiling lightly as he backs them into the wall beside the door.

            The wall behind her cools as his hands begins to traverse her curves and she can’t help but laugh, startled.

            “What?” he mumbles against her mouth.

            “Sexy’s helping,” River gets out as she works her fingers beneath his jacket.

            “Helping?” His lips break from hers to move to her neck.

            “Wall’s cold. You’re hot,” she pants.

            He pauses, his lips pressed to her pulse before his back starts to shake. He laughs into her neck and stumbles into her, pinning her against the wall as they giggle together.

            “Does she—did she do this often?” he wonders a minute later, when they’ve collected themselves, further from hot and heavy and leaning more toward content and cuddling.

            “Sometimes,” River admits as they shift around until she’s leaning into his chest, his arms wrapped around her. “Certainly moved some of those control levers when we were, well, occupied on the console.”

            “She—Oh.” He dips his head and hides his face in her curls, as if the TARDIS might be standing nearby, watching. She does seem to hum beneath their feet and against their backs, so perhaps he’s not so silly.

            “She was always happy,” River tells him. “Happy that you were happy.”

            “Missed you so much,” he mumbles, and she’s not sure if he’s referring to himself or his ship. Hardly matters, she thinks, as he squeezes her closer.

            She arches up on her toes and kisses him.

            “Oh, ew.”

            They break apart in surprise as Charlotte comes out of the court. She stares at them in mild disgust and the Doctor quickly takes his hands off of River’s bottom while River straightens her dress.

            “Are you done playing, dear?” River asks, going for an unruffled expression.

            “Only if you’re done kissing.”

            The Doctor opens his mouth but River covers it with her hand before he can say anything, or lean in to kiss her just to see Charlotte wrinkle her nose. It’s adorable, but they’ve tortured the poor girl enough.

            “We’ll behave. Now, what to see next?” Charlotte shrugs, reaching up to cover her mouth as she yawns. “Or perhaps it’s bedtime.”

            “No,” Charlotte says instantly, shaking her head.

            “Oh, I think so,” River decides, pulling away from the Doctor to take her daughter’s hand. “It’ll be much more fun tomorrow when you’re more awake.”

            “But—but—”

            “But nothing,” River says sternly. Charlotte huffs but closes her mouth, walking forlornly beside her as River leads them back the way they came.

            The Doctor appears at her side, leaning close. She nearly stumbles at the feeling of his breath at her ear, but manages to keep her footing.

            “What if we slept here tonight? I’m sure there’s already a room for Charlie,” he whispers.

            She suppresses her shiver and glances at him. “Yeah?”

            “I’m sure of it.”

            “Charlie,” River says, pulling her body away from his to look down at her daughter. “Would you like to sleep on the TARDIS tonight?”

            Charlotte’s eyes light up and she surges forward to wrap her arms around River’s waist, babbling incoherently into her stomach.

            “I’ll take that as a yes,” the Doctor says, chuckling as Charlie breaks away from her to wrap her arms around the Doctor as well. “Glad you’re excited, poppet,” he murmurs.

            Charlie pulls back and looks up at him, wonder on her face, and River’s heart melts. Like this. It would have felt like this, to wander the TARDIS at night with a little girl or little boy, to argue over bedtimes and take the baby out on flights. She’s never retroactively wanted anything so much, and been so glad to have it now.

            She follows her husband and daughter as they wind their way back toward the console, stopping a few doors down from their room for the Doctor to push open a worn, deep green door. River smiles and walks up behind the pair, peering over their shoulders at the near replica of Charlotte’s room in the mainframe.

            “Mummy look!” Charlotte exclaims, running into her room to point out the window.

            “She’s generating it for us, I suppose,” the Doctor murmurs as he and River approach Charlotte, staring out the window into what appears to be deep space. “Though, I wonder if we got high enough up, if we could take a lift, virtually, and look out a—well, make a big screen somewhere and tube in the view,” he mumbles.              
            “After she gets a good night’s sleep,” River says, squeezing his hand as she reaches out to trail her other through Charlotte’s hair, smoothing down the stray strands mussed by static. “Bedtime, little miss.”

            “But mum!”

            “You can watch space from your bed, can’t you?” River prompts, giving Charlotte an indulgent smile as she turns to look up at her.

            “Fine,” she lets out on a sigh. “Is,” she pauses and looks at the Doctor. “Is everything the same?”

            “Why are you asking me?”

            “Because—oh,” Charlotte says, stalling to close her eyes. “It is! My bathroom is just through this door, not in the hall,” she adds, pointing to a door by her armoire.

            “Then hop to it,” River instructs, nudging her gently toward the bathroom door.

            Charlotte goes, dragging her feet as she does. River withholds a laugh, keeping her face impassive lest her daughter turn around. When the door closes, River leans into the Doctor, pressing her face into his shoulder and giggling softly.

            “She can talk to the TARDIS,” he says.

            “You knew that.”

            “But—the way you can talk to the TARDIS. I know we can no longer talk to each other, but why don’t I get this kind of preferential treatment? All I get are shakes and shivers and the occasional hum.”

            The TARDIS laughs inside River’s head and she presses her lips together. “You’re not a Pond, dear,” she offers, chancing a glance at him, only to find him scowling back at her.

            “Oi! Am so too. Mr. Pond.”

            “That’s father,” she counters.

            “Mr. Song then,” he says, straightening his bowtie. “Thought we’d been married enough for you both to know my name.”

            “But that’s not quite how it works,” River argues, unable to stop smiling, because he does actually think it—

            “Of course it is! What would you be then? River Doctor? Doctor River Doctor? That’s ridiculous.”

            River laughs, unable to come up with a good response. Her lovely, righteous husband. “Of course, dear,” she manages after a minute in which he frowns as she tries to reclaim her composure. “Doctor River Song and Doctor Song.”

            “Better be. I have our marriage license framed in the den.”

            “Which one?” she wonders, trying to remember if she caught a glimpse of it at one time or another.

            “All of them,” he says off-handedly as Charlotte comes back into the room. “That is a marvelous nightdress,” he exclaims.

            Charlotte blushes, fiddling with the waist of the TARDIS blue dress that falls to her toes, complete with white windows and the Police Box heading around the collar. She walks around them and hesitantly climbs into her bed, looking up at both of them with wide eyes. River watches her, rather concerned at the shy, nearly overwhelmed look on her daughter’s face, until it clicks. She’s never had two people tuck her into bed, at least, not as long as she’s been here.

            The thought cracks her already bursting heart and River instinctively sits at Charlotte’s hip as she lays down. She reaches out and smoothes her hand along her cheek, smiling encouragingly at her daughter before she looks up at her husband.

            “Have a good story in mind, dear?”

            He beams at her and flops down onto the floor, knocking into the bedside stand and rattling the collection of gismos sitting on the top. He smiles guiltily up at them through his fringe and meets Charlotte’s eyes across the bedspread, their heads at the same level.

            “Did you know that I once fought with pirates? Well, once is a loose term. Your grandmother and I, and your granddad, Mr. Pond,” he pauses and gives River a significant look. “Fought with pirates against a siren.”

            “Siren’s aren’t real,” Charlotte pipes up.

            “Alright, well, she wasn’t really a siren, but for the intents and purposes of a bedtime story, can she be a siren?”

            “I guess,” Charlotte says on a sigh.

            “Cheeky,” the Doctor mutters, tossing her a wink.

            Charlotte flushes at that and looks up at River, as if looking for a approval. Oh, dear, will the next weeks be full of attempts to impress and anxiety over every little word? She’ll have to find a way to fix that, and fast. In the moment, she adjusts Charlotte’s blankets and gives her a wink of her own.

            “The siren?” River prompts, meeting her husband’s eyes as he watches them with a fond smile.

            He goes on to regale them with the story she knows well, having heard it from him, and Amy, and even Rory a time or two. And so instead of his words, she listens to the cadence of his voice, and watches as her daughter fights to the very end so she can get the full story before dropping exhaustedly into sleep.

            They sit there for a few minutes when he finishes, the room bathed in the soft light from the stars on the ceiling, and the ambient purpling glow of the ‘space’ outside the window. River feels the Doctor’s fingers brush over her ankle and looks down at him to find him watching her with a fond smile and lost eyes.

            She smoothes out Charlotte’s blankets one last time and stands, offering her hands to her husband. Together, they haul him off the floor and River guides him out of the room, closing the door with a small click and a hum from the TARDIS. He doesn’t move, his eyes staring into hers, then tracking her face, her hair, her neck.

            River leans up and presses her lips to his for a brief moment before pulling away, smiling as he leans after her, his eyes slowly blinking open. She tugs on his hand and leads them down the hall to their door. He reaches out and snags the handle before she can, and she watches as he turns the knob and pushes the door open to a room she never thought she’d see again.

            And like everything else, it is the same—the deep red comforter on the bed, her over-large armoire in the corner with the standing mirror, one of his spare jackets thrown over the loveseat by the wall. Her things are still scattered on the dressing table along with bits of string and paper from his pockets. It’s as though she’s never left, like she stepped out for a quick trip to teach, or a pop back to Stormcage.

            She steps into the room, feeling the haze of it settle over her like a warm blanket as she peers around. It’s then that she notices the dust and the pristine state of the bed, the age of the jacket, the color of the bits of paper. He hasn’t slept here in years.

            “I had her keep it after our last…visit,” he says, walking up to stand behind her, his chest warm against her back. “But after I just couldn’t—it smelled like you, and you left notes everywhere, little pieces of you staring at me all the time and I couldn’t—”

            She leans into him, reaching back to yank his arm around her stomach so she can lace their hands together. She toes off her flats and lets her feet sink into the plush brown carpet. She wiggles her toes and feels the answering rush of energy beneath her feet. A light wind picks up around the room and the dust clears, leaving everything clean and bright.

            “You play such favorites,” he grumbles up at the ceiling.

            River chuckles and squeezes his hands beneath hers. “The rest of us need some perks, sweetie.”

            “And flying her isn’t perks enough?”

            “Oh, you can hold a grudge, can’t you?” she says, turning in the circle of his arms to look up at him. She reaches up and undoes his bowtie, drawing her fingers down his braces to rest her palms against his hearts when she finishes.

            “I suppose it might be time to let it go,” he offers as his fingers skim up and down her back.

            “Might be?” She cocks her head as she begins slipping open the buttons on his shirt.

            “Possibly,” he says, fingers moving against her back to undo the zip on her dress.

            “Perhaps?” she wonders, slipping the braces from his shoulders before finishing off his buttons.

            He laughs as he pulls her in, his hands busy roaming beneath her dress, across her back and up and down. She presses her lips to his sternum, smiling at the hitch in his breath.

            “I’ve missed your tub,” she mutters into his skin.           

            He laughs and tugs her away to slip her dress from her shoulders. “Yours is enormous,” he argues as she does the same to his shirt.

            “But you have that bubble bath from Metraxis Seven,” she says, giving him her largest eyes and pushing out her lower lip. “And they’re blue.”

            “That’s what you miss most of all? My blue bubble bath?” he asks, looking affronted. But his eyes twinkle and she smirks up at him.

            “Well, company in the bath is nice as well,” she says with a light shrug, skirting out of his arms to walk toward the ensuite.

            She lets her dress pool at her feet and steps out of it just as she clears the doorway into the bathroom. She smiles as she hears him stumbling after her, his shoes hitting the floor with abandon as he goes.

            She flicks on the light and grins into the room. The green and blue tiles sparkle back at her as she sweeps the room with her gaze, looking fondly at the abused towel rack and cluttered counter. The tub in the corner calls to her and she pads over, reaching behind her back to unclasp her brassiere, only to find his hands already there, his breath at her neck a moment later.

            “Eager, are we?” she murmurs as she flicks on the taps and grabs the round, white bottle of bubble bath.

            His only response is the press of his lips to the curve of her throat. She pours the soap in, watching with somewhat childish delight as the water turns blue and the bubbles begin to rise across the tub. He nips at her shoulder and her childish delight turns into another sensation all together.

            By the time they’re through with each other, the bathwater is luke warm and the bubbles have all but popped. His hands stroke aimlessly over her arms as she reclines against his chest, eyes unfocused.

            “You know, 21st century Earth used to have a toilet plug that made the water this color,” he offers.

            She snorts and whacks at his leg as he giggles. “Charming.”

            “Well they did,” he asserts, nuzzling his face into her hair.

            “I know, dear. Amy and Rory had one for a while.”

            “Not while I was there,” he grumbles. “Blue toilet water, River. That’s cool.”

            “All of time and space, and you’re fascinated by toilet water.”

            His hand slides down her arm and his fingers twine with hers so he can pull her hand up to his lips. She giggles as he nibbles on her fingers, pressing sloppy kisses to her palm in between. She shivers, half chilly in the water, half tickled by his antics.

            “We need to get you warmed up,” he whispers into her ear.

            “Shower first,” she groans as she sits forward.

            His hands glide over her hips and down her thighs as she stands and climbs out of the tub. She turns and watches as he follows, blue water sluicing down his lean body as he goes. He follows her across the room to the cavernous shower, crowding her as she steps inside, his hands already busy across her body even before she gets the water on.

            “How many hands do you have?” she mumbles as she drags both of them under the spray, water sliding down their bodies to swirl blue around the drain.

            His fingers tangle in her curls and she rolls her eyes, washing down with him clinging to her like a koala. She’d be irritated, but it’s been so long since he’s done this—invaded her space and not let up until she gives in and continues to cuddle him.

            “Never enough,” he says as he spins them around so the water hits his back and hair, removing all traces of their bath.

            “I’ve dated a few multi-limbs, nothing special,” she says offhandedly as she scrubs at his hair.

            “When—I—River,” he scolds while she laughs.

            “Nothing serious, darling,” she assures him, patting his cheek.

            “Dated a nesting duplicate, dated an android, dated a multi-limb. Is there anyone you haven’t dated?” he grumbles as she pushes him from the shower and reaches for a towel.

            “Never did get to know Jack well enough,” she muses as she tosses a towel at him.

            “There is a God then,” he says as they dry off.

            “We would have shared.” He gives her a look. “Oh, like you weren’t interested.”

            “S’not a matter of interest,” he mumbles as he follows her out into the bedroom. “He became a giant head in a jar. There are things you just can’t unsee, River.”

            River meets his eyes and bursts into laughter, falling onto the bed as he grins at her. She shuffles backward, tossing her towel to the floor as he looks her over. She smiles as he climbs up after her, her eyes moist from laughter. He places a few sloppy kisses to her cheek as they wrestle the bedspread out from under them and pull up the covers.

            “No sharing,” he says into her hair as they settle themselves down.

            “That’s not what you said that one ti—”

            “No sharing,” he repeats, his fingers on her mouth.

            She licks his hand just to see him grimace. “Who would we share with, darling?”

            His frown turns into a smirk and he leans down to kiss her for a long moment, his tongue hot and heavy against hers. “Glad that’s settled,” he decides as he pulls back a minute later.

            “Not so much settled as—”

            “Just give me this,” he says, pouting at her. “I just got my wife back. I’m in no mood to contemplate sharing her.”

            River blows out a sigh and nods up at him, horrified to find that somehow, that little sentence has melted her heart. She’s been away from him far too long if he can romance her so easily.

            “Thank you,” he says primly, before collapsing on top of her with a laugh.

She giggles and shoves at him until he’s cuddled into her side, his head on her shoulder and arm across her stomach. She stares up at the canopy above them as she cards her fingers through his thick, damp hair. His fingers dance along her side, swirling patterns and Gallifreyan symbols across her skin. Around them, the TARDIS hums, light melodies flowing out of the walls and into her head. Her lullaby.

“River?” the Doctor whispers, his head tilting to look up at her.

“Nothing,” she says quietly, reaching up with her free hand to wipe at her face. She’s crying. Lovely. “Nothing I’m—I’m happy. Going soft. Don’t mind me.”

He chuckles and leans up to kiss her cheek, shifting them until she’s cradled against his body, his hand in her hair and lips against her temple.

“I like you soft,” he murmurs.

She giggles, the TARDIS laughing around them. She presses her lips to his chest and snuggles into him, letting his hand in her hair and the sound of his heartbeats lull her into sleep.

The last thing she hears as she drifts off is his soft voice murmuring through a Gallifreyan, “It’s empty without you here.”


	11. To Do

**In Moments Like This**

**** **Chapter 11:**

“Oi! What is this?”

            Charlotte and River giggle together, cuddled up in bed as they watch cartoons, the ocean lapping softly out the window. They’ve made sure to take up as much space as possible while he had a shower, their limbs spread wide and akimbo.

            “I leave for ten minutes and you take over the bed?”           

            “Hardly ten minutes, darling,” River says, smiling as Charlotte giggles. “And it’s our Saturday girl time.”

            “It’s not Saturday,” he huffs.

            “How would you know?” Charlotte asks, earning a shocked look from the Doctor and laughter from her mother.

            “I—well—how do you know?”

            “We do it once a week,” Charlotte tells him as he towels his hair dry.

            “And we decided the day we started was a Saturday,” River adds, shifting to sit back up and pull Charlotte into her side. “Can we make room for him, dear?”

            “I guess,” Charlotte says dramatically, letting her head fall heavily onto River’s shoulder. “If we must.”

            “No, no, you two have your ‘girl time.’ I’ll just go…tinker with the TARDIS. She’s been getting antsy about those thermo couplings. Seems to think we’ll be flying today.”

            Charlotte perks up at that and glances between them. “Flying?”

            “Maybe. What’s it to you?” The Doctor asks, hiding his smile.

            “Can I fly her?”

            “You’d have to ask her, dear,” River cuts in before the Doctor can reply.

            “Can I?” Charlotte asks immediately.           

            “I thought we were having cartoon time,” River says, putting on a pout.

            Charlotte instantly sobers, giving her an apologetic look. “Oh, mummy, I—”

            “We’ll watch cartoons later,” River assures her, laughing and giving her a quick squeeze. “Go along and ask, we’ll be down in a minute.”

            Charlotte squeals and vaults out of bed, skirting around the Doctor before taking off down the hall. They listen as she pounds down the stairs, giggling all the way.

            “Such energy in the morning. It’s ghastly,” the Doctor says as he walks to the closet.

            “Mm,” River replies, stretching. “Terrible to be woken by someone with enough pep to sustain a year’s worth of travel.”

            He tosses her a glare as he reaches into the closet for his shirt. She watches as he puts it on, fumbling his way through the cuffs and buttons.

            “And such cheek,” he says as he reaches out for his slacks. “And so clever. It’s really unfair. She’s too cute, River.”

            “She is at that, dear,” River agrees, smiling as he hops awkwardly, one leg in his trousers.

            “Aren’t you getting dressed?” he asks as he gets the other leg in and pulls them up.

            “It’s much more fun to watch you.”

            He gives her a look, apparently unable to decide if he’s smug or cross with her. It’s rather adorable.

            “Mummy! Doctor! She said yes!”

            River looks out the window and spots Charlotte dancing around in front of the house, the door to the TARDIS open as she looks up at their window.

            “I suppose my watching time is over,” River says with a put-upon sigh.

            “My turn,” he says gleefully, plopping down on the arm of one of the armchairs.

            River laughs and goes about getting ready, taking her sweet time as she pulls off her nightdress and slips into her knickers. She reaches into the closet, tossing a wink at her husband, and the first thing she encounters is her white dress. She lets her fingers trail across the material, oddly nostalgic for it. She glances at the Doctor for a moment and catches him smiling besottedly at her.

            So she puts it on.

            The fabric is as comfortable as she remembers, clinging and flowing and close. She rummages around until she finds the sweater and startles as hands help her slide into it. The Doctor smiles at her in the mirror on the door of the closet.

            “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you in white,” he offers as she meets his gaze.

            “Hardly appropriate, most days,” she says. His lips quirk but he stays silent, simply staring at her.

            “Mummy!”

            They both startle and he gives her a crooked smile. “More appropriate now, I’d think.”

            “Not considering what went on in that bed last night,” she mumbles as he leads her from the room.

            “I have to talk to the poppet in thirty seconds,” he squeaks.

            “I’m sure you can multi-task with your dirty thoughts,” she assures him, patting his arm as she opens the front door.

            “Horrible, horrible, tease,” he decides as they walk down onto the lawn.

            “It took you forever,” Charlotte announces, nearly jumping around the TARDIS as it sits, doors open on the grass.

            “You could have jumped ahead by three minutes, saved yourself the trouble,” the Doctor offers, reaching out to tap her head as he strides into the TARDIS.

            “Don’t go giving her your bad habits,” River chides, following him inside, Charlotte between them.

            “What bad habits?” he asks, spinning around, already flipping unecessary switches as the doors close behind them. “I’ve not got bad ones. Just the good ones.”

            “Yes, because trying to skip forward by five minutes everytime the mortals need a moment is perfectly acceptable. Never mind that you once stranded me in Paris for days because you couldn’t stand waiting on that queue to buy me some clothes.”

            “We have a wardrobe. You have a wardrobe, actually, or three. What did you need to buy clothes for?”

            “Because we were in eighteenth century Paris and I was walking around in a cat suit, dear.”

            “If I promise not to skip ahead to miss the boring bits, can we fly and you guys stop fighting?”

            River and the Doctor look down at Charlotte, who stands with her hands on her hips, still in her pajamas—ones with ducks River doesn’t recognize.

            “I’m in my pajamas and I don’t need to shop for clothes, and please, please? She said we could go to Narnia.”

            “Go to—how exactly does the world work here?” the Doctor asks, looking between them.

            “She can put us into books?” River asks Charlotte.

            Her daughter nods, eyes lit up. “And we can jump all over the story. But not how Evie pulls things out. We can go inside them!”

            “Evie has perfected the art of extracting items, places, people, from any book, and we’ve explored that way,” River explains as her husband simply stares at them. “But apparently now we’ll be able to go inside the books, like, well, I suppose, like visiting planets.”           

            The TARDIS hums beneath her feet and she strokes a hand along one of the railings in thanks.

            “I didn’t anticipate this,” the Doctor admits as he flips a few switches. River watches with amusement as his fingers hesitate over each one.

            “Perhaps we should let Charlotte set her up and fly us in.”

            “Into Narnia,” the Doctor says dubiously.

            “Uh-huh,” Charlotte chirps, skirting around him, her little hands pressing buttons and flipping switches. She can barely reach half of them, and yet the engines whir to life beneath them.

            “River,” the Doctor says, as if her name is a question and answer at once.

            “I guess there are still adventures to be had with the old girl,” she supplies, patting the banister before walking up to take her Husband’s hand. “Still some running to do.”

            He leans in and press his lips to hers, his arm yanking her into his chest. She stumbles into him, wrapping her arms around his neck without a second thought.

            “Gu-uys!”

            They break apart, laughing and leaning into each other. Charlotte glares at them from the console just as the deep gong sounds out.

            “We’re here,” her daughter says, traces of disgust in her voice. “Can we go and play without kissing please?”

            The Doctor growls and leaps forward, hauling Charlotte up into his arms and then backward over his shoulder, carrying her like a ragdoll as she squeals. He marches to the TARDIS doors and Charlotte giggles madly as he spins around.

            “Kissing is a perfectly acceptable pass time,” he informs her daughter as he dawdles by the door, waiting as River walks slowly to join them. “And your mother is excells brilliantly at it.”

            “Ew!” Charlotte exclaims.

            “That’s enough, dear,” River says, surpressing her laughter as she pats Charlotte’s back. “Shall we see some of Narnia?”

            They have a snowball fight in the great forest. They spend an afternoon with a talking lion. They fight in the battle. They meet Mr. Tumnus. They spend the day zooming to and fro in the book, exploring the entire land, jumping from mountain to mountain in their little blue box. It isn’t exploring planets, and the running isn’t quite life-or-death, but it’s fun, and it feels like home, like before.

            Only this time, as they meander exhaustedly back to the TARDIS after the battle is over and the kingdom won, the Doctor carries Charlotte in his arms, the two of them whispering to each other as they go.

            River follows behind them, watching as her daughter pulls back to meet the Doctor’s eyes to say something. His laughter rings out in response and Charlotte grins, putting her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. River smiles at the picture they make.

            The Doctor snaps his fingers to open the TARDIS doors and River closes them  behind them. She watches as he sets Charlotte gently in the jump seat, the little girl sagging and half asleep. Charlotte blinks at her as River walks up to the console, where her husband is quietly piloting them home, stabilizers and breaks off and all.

            “Did you have fun, sweetheart?” River asks, brushing her fingers through Charlotte’s hair.

            Charlotte nods and tugs on her skirt until River sits down. She laughs as Charlotte snuggles into her, her body half off the seat to manage it. The Doctor looks over at them with soft eyes, his palms flat against the TARDIS console.

            Around them, the TARDIS hums and seems to glow. A great sense of peace washes through River and she reaches out to touch the railing, letting the light seep into her body. The deep gong rings out and the TARDIS quiets, the engines dying as they sit back on their front lawn. The Doctor watches her for a moment then walks to join them, standing at her side until her head is pressed into his sternum.

            “I’d say that was a good one,” he offers as his hand makes its way into her curls, fingers tangling behind her head.

            “Think you’ll be content with books and history?” she asks, looking up at him as Charlotte snuffles in her sleep.

            He smiles and nods, looking perhaps the most contented that she’s ever seen him. Maybe it’s peace that she sees on his face—the peace the TARDIS feels.

            “All of history, all of literature. We can go anywhere,” he says. “And we get to show her all of it, watch her see if for the first time.” River nods slowly, studying the play of emotions on his face. “It’s—River, it’s just so—”

            “I know,” she murmurs.

            He meets her eyes and she’s surprised to see them shining. She follows the bob of his adam’s apple and waits. But the words don’t come and he merely leans down to press his lips to the top of her head, his other hand gently tracing the slope of Charlotte’s nose.

            “Thank you,” he whispers into her hair.

            She takes his hand in hers and brings it to her lips, pressing the same sentiment into his skin.

           

(…)

 

            “Poppet, what’s the matter?” the Doctor whispers, his voice at the edge of her consciousness. She rolls toward the sound, her hand reaching out for her husband.

            “Mu—mummy’s gone!”

            “No, no, she’s right here. I promise.”

            River’s eyes slam open and she blinks in the dim light filtering in from the moon outside. The Doctor sits at the side of their bed, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped tight around Charlotte’s quivering body.

            “But I broke. I broke and mummy went away and I looked and looked for you but you were gone and the shadows came and everything went dark,” she sobs into his chest.

            “Hey, we’re right here,” he says, his lips against her temple.

            River hauls herself up and crosses the bed to wrap herself around her family. She cups the back of Charlotte’s head, her lips pressed to the Doctor’s shoulder for a moment before she can gather her scattered head.

            “Charlie,” she whispers, waiting until her daughter looks up at her. “Hey, sweetie.”

            “Mummy,” Charlotte croaks.

            “You’re okay. You’re awake now,” she promises, grabbing the hand Charlotte extends to her.

            “What if I break?”

            “You won’t break, poppet,” the Doctor assures her.

            “But what if I do, and you’re in here, and not out there, and you can’t save everyone? What if I break and you go away forever?”

            “Come ‘ere,” the Doctor murmurs, gently dislodging River so he can haul Charlotte into the bed with them.

            Together, they snuggle her down between them. River bends to kiss her forehead and brushes at the fresh tears on her cheeks.

            “Do you remember what you told me when I first arrived?” River asks, glancing at her husband with a smile as his fingers find hers above Charlotte’s head.

            “That the Doctor saved you,” Charlotte replies, half in question, half muddlied with tears.

            “That the Doctor fixed the Data Core,” River reminds her. “It’s all fixed and all working now.”

            “But what if it stops? Won’t—won’t the Library die someday?”

            “Not until the Universe does,” the Doctor says, smiling down at her. “And that’s a very long while from now.”

            “But it happens,” Charlotte whispers, her eyes wide and shining. “And then you’re gone.”

            River meets the Doctor’s eyes, floundering. “It does happen,” he agrees. “But that’s something no one can run from, poppet. Everything ends, at one point or another.”

            Charlotte lets out a small sob and turns to bury her face in the Doctor’s chest. River glares at her husband. Certainly not making it better is he, even if he’s quoting her—a night in the dark on the TARDIS, a night of promises and heartbreak and the saddest “spoilers,” he’d ever uttered.

            “But we’ll be together,” he continues, staring into her eyes as he cups the back of Charlotte’s head. “And no one will be alone.”

            She softens at that and scoots forward to buffet her daughter. She reaches out to cup his cheek, suddenly caught in the chest with the thought of it—the thought of his death. Alone. He was alone.

            The back of her mind hums, a distant melody, and she bends to press her forehead to his. Not completely alone—he had the TARDIS. But she hadn’t been there. Stupidly, on quiet nights alone in her cell, she’d thought maybe she would be. Maybe she would cheat death and be there with him at his end. Instead he was with her for hers, and then she had Charlotte.

            “We’ll be with you, always,” she promises as Charlotte turns back to look up at both of them. “And we’ve ages and ages before that. And even then, who knows if we’ll disappear. We are inside a data core. Maybe someone will upload us somewhere—take all of literature with them.”

            The Doctor grins at her, nodding along. It could happen. He’s here, after all. Seems anything can happen.

            “But, what if before that I get sick, or a virus, or something, or the Vashta Nerada get someone else and I have to—”

            River brushes her hand over Charlotte’s cheek and the girl stops talking, staring up at them pleadingly.

            “We’ll be here if anything happens to you,” she promises.

            “That’s what parents are for, you see,” the Doctor adds.

            Charlotte’s eyes snap to his, her whole little body tense. The Doctor, bless him, is completely oblivious. River brushes a lock of hair from Charlotte’s cheek then places her hand over the girl’s on her stomach. The Doctor looks down and catches Charlotte staring at him. He smiles easily, comforting, and adds his hand to their pile, squeezing both of theirs below.

            “How about some cocoa? Chocolate always chases the dreams away.”

            “Okay,” Charlotte whispers.

            He nods and bends to kiss her temple, leaning over a moment later to do the same to River.

            “Back in a tick.”

            They watch as he clambers out of bed and bundles into a robe. He bounds from the room, leaving them in the cucoon of the bed with the waves gently lapping outside.

            “Mummy,” Charlotte sighs and River looks down at her daughter.

            “You’re okay now. You’re safe,” River promises.

            Charlotte nods and curls into her, her fingers toying with River’s larger ones. She opens her mouth a few times but clamps it shut. After her third attempt, River takes pity on the poor thing.

            “What is it, darling?”

            “You’re m’parents,” Charlotte mumbles, hiding her face in River’s neck, her voice muffled.

            River smiles and lets her daughter hide. She rubs her back and listens to the soft sounds of the the Doctor clinking around in the kitchen. He might be singing. She can’t be sure.

            “Of course we are,” she tells Charlotte.

            “I just didn’t think he’d, um,” Charlotte trails off, pulling back to peek up at her. “I—you said you’re my mummy but I wasn’t sure if—” she stops and looks up at River pleadingly.

            “If he was just taking care of you because he had to?” River supplies, soft reproach in her words.

            Charlotte blushes but doesn’t shy away. After a few moments, she nods.

            “What did I tell you about assuming?”

            “But you’re different,” Charlotte exclaims. She bites her lip and looks hesitantly up at River.

            “Why?”

            “Because, because—you’re already my mummy, and he’s your husband, so he has to be nice, and has to take care of me, because I’m yours. But you—I wasn’t yours and you didn’t have to at all, and I just—he didn’t ask for me. I was already here, and I don’t—I didn’t think that he’d be—I’m sorry.”

            “Oh, dear, what are you apologizing for?”

            “Because I sound ungrateful,” Charlotte mumbles.

            River sits up and pulls Charlotte with her, glancing toward the doorway where she can see her husband’s shadow lurking in the hall. Never could keep his nose out of anything could he?

“No, Charlie,” River says, taking the girl’s face in her hands. “You sound like a girl who lived for a long time with a father that wasn’t real. That takes some time to move past, dear.”

            Charlotte’s lip quivers. “He was a good daddy,” she whispers. “But he didn’t—I could tell that he wasn’t real sometimes. Not all the time. Just, just when I remembered.”

            “And now you don’t have to remember and it’s overwhelming, hm?” River concludes. Charlotte nods into her hands. “That’s alright, you know.”

            “But I don’t want him to think I don’t love—because I do. I really do. I just didn’t know if he—I don’t know if he—”

            “He isn’t taking care of you out of a sense of obligation,” River interrupts. “And he certainly isn’t playing with you because he wants to impress me or make me happy. He loves spending time with you, thinks you make the world turn. And I mean outside of the fact that you do, literally, make the world in here turn.”

            Charlotte laughs a little and curls her hands into River’s between them.

            “And whether or not he is or becomes your daddy is between the two of you,” River continues, pushing through even as Charlotte looks as though she’s socked her in the gut. “Just like me being your mummy was a choice between us. But Charlie,” she waits until Charlotte meets her eyes again, “he loves you, no matter what he is to you.”

            “That he does,” the Doctor announces as he strolls in.

            River refrains from rolling her eyes; his immpeccable timing leaves something to be desired in tact. Charlotte squeaks and turns to watch as he carefully comes through the room, carrying three mugs. It’s a wonder he made it up the stairs. Charlotte looks back at her, panic all over her face.

            The Doctor reaches the bed before River can find something soothing to say to her daughter. Instead, she helps her husband distribute the cups and settle back onto the bed until they’re all sitting against the headboard cradling their mugs with steam curling toward the ceiling.

            “I don’t know how long it’s been since my children were alive,” the Doctor says after a few quiet minutes.

            Charlotte nearly spills her cocoa as she startles. River places a hand on her back and looks over at her husband, who stares distantly out the window over her shoulder.

            “Many thousands of years,” he continues. “Well, as I’ve traveled. I don’t know how many in linear terms exactly. And Jenny, my daughter from my tenth regeneration, she was never a child. And I don’t—I heard whispers about her. I just never managed to find her.”

            River itches to reach out and touch him, but her trembling daughter needs her hand far more, and River pulls the girl into her side. Charlotte watches the Doctor as he gazes past them, her hand tight over River’s on her stomach now.

“I bet we could find her,” Charlotte says quietly.

It takes him a moment, but he tears his eyes away from the window and looks down at her. “Jenny?”

“In the books. I could—I could look now, if you’d like,” she offers.

The Doctor smiles and reaches out to tap her on the nose. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “But I’m happy with just my two girls tonight.”

            Charlotte relaxes against her and River catches a smile on her face as the Doctor takes an overly large sip of his drink. He splutters a bit, then spends 30 seconds with his tongue handing out of his mouth, his eyes sad and pouting at them. Charlotte giggles as River smirks.

            “Too hot for you, dear?”

            He mock glares at her and slowly pulls his tongue back. “The TARDIS always equalized the temperature to perfect for drinking.”

            “Yes, well, in the real world, we blow on our cocoa,” River chides.

            “She is so sassy,” the Doctor says, leaning down toward Charlotte.

            Charlotte doesn’t voice an opinion—clever girl—but the Doctor winks at her and River feels like maybe she’s about to be permanently outnumbered. She always suspected any child of theirs would be a complete daddy’s girl. How could a child resist?

            They drink quietly. After a while, Charlotte sags against her and River plucks the cup from her smaller hands, twisting to place it on her beside along with her own. The Doctor deposits his and both of them look down at Charlotte, who blinks sluggishly back at them.

            “Are you tired, poppet?” the Doctor asks. Charlotte nods and shifts away from River, moving to climb over the Doctor. “Whoa,” he says, grabbing her before she makes it very far. “Where do you think you’re going?”

            “Bed,” Charlotte lets out on a yawn.

            “Already in a bed. Big bed. Best bed. Come on, back in with you.” He plops her back between them and Charlotte giggles while River resets the blankets over the three of them.

            “I can sleep in my bed,” the girl protests.

            “But sleeping with mum and dad is always more fun,” the Doctor insists.

            Charlotte’s far too busy being stunned silly by his words to notice the hitch in his voice, but River hears it clear as day. They stare at each other for a long moment before Charlotte nods and snuggles down into the bed.

            “Okay,” she whispers.

            River and the Doctor follow suit, and the three of them settle back into the pillows. Charlotte shifts a few times, turning back and forth to look at them before she rests with her back to River. She reaches over and tugs on her arm until River cuddles into her. The Doctor watches them for a moment before he scoots closer and lays his hand on River’s forearm over Charlotte’s waist.

            “Comfortable?” he asks them.

            Charlotte nods and sighs contentedly, already nodding off. River meets his eyes and winks, smiling as he grins at her. His eyes flick from her face to Charlotte’s, quickly going slack with sleep, and back.

            “Will you sleep?” he whispers.

            River shakes her head and reaches out with her free hand, resting her head against her bicep on the pillow. “You?”

            He shakes his head and meets her hand with his, mimicking her pose. They spend the night like this, staring at each other as their daughter sleeps between them, snuffling and mumbling occasionally. They smile besottedly at her each time.

            By the time the sun rises, she’s convinced that body snatchers have somehow managed to infiltrate the mainframe and steal them away. Neither of them can possibly be this sappy or maudlin, mouthing “I love you,” and staying at the edge of tears because of a girl they get to call theirs now. Couldn’t possibly be them.

            “By the way,” the Doctor murmurs as the sun crests the sea outside. “You look amazing.”

            River smiles. “Thank you, sweetie.”

            “I mean, really amazing. Took me a little while to figure it out, but you look as though—and don’t take this the wrong way—as though you’ve aged backward a bit.”

            River bites her lip, tempted to just let him think she’s magical. Then again, his shock might be worth it. “I sort of, ah, kept turning it back, little by little, as I went. Started when I’d first regenerated in this body.”

            “You—” he gapes at her for a moment before perusing her body with his eyes. “Good on you.”

            “Is it?”

            “Very much,” he promises, his eyes losing a bit of that paternal light to turn darker.

            “Not around the daughter, dear,” she chides, even as she flushes a little under his attention.

            He gives a put upon sigh, then grins down at Charlotte, all lust gone from his face. He’s got the attention of a cocker spaniel, but she can hardly care when he’s staring at her daughter—their daughter—like that.

            “What are we doing today?” he asks.

            “I have a lunch date with Anita and Evie, so I think you two will have to fend for yourselves.”

            He beams, looking excitedly down at Charlotte. “Fantastic. The poppet and I will have a great time. An adventure.”

            “Don’t wake her just to get started early,” she says quickly. She can already see him itching to tickle her awake.

            “I would do no such thing,” he insists, giving her an innocent look that she doesn’t buy for a minute. “I wouldn’t.”

            “And you woke me on our wedding night to go look at the color ball you’d found from the nineties because?”

            “I couldn’t stand a moment without you awake, my beautiful wife?” She laughs then winces as Charlotte shifts in her sleep. “Wasn’t me,” he says cheekily.

            She rolls her eyes and looks at her daughter, but she doesn’t wake.

            “And you enjoyed that night,” he says as she brings her eyes back to his.

            “I did,” she admits. Oh, she really did.

            “And that color ball was an interesting touch in the bathroom.”

            “Child present,” River reminds him, even as her own mind strays back to the damage they did to the TARDIS ensuite that night, moving around with nothing but the color ball to light their way. She had bruises for weeks. Medals of debauchery, he’d called them.

            “Stop it,” he mutters.

            “Stop what?”

            “Stop looking like that.”

            “Looking like what?”

            “Like our kid isn’t in bed with us,” he insists.

            “I will if you will.”

            He scowls at her but his eyes are bright and she simply smirks in response. His fingers trail up her arm and move toward her collarbone before she swats him away.

            “Down boy. Later.”

            “You can count on it,” he growls under his breath.

            “Oh sweetie, I am.”

 

(…)

 

            “Mummy! Mummy! Come see what daddy and I did!”

            River smiles as she crosses the lawn and makes her way to the crest of the hilld, where Charlotte dances in a small bikini with ruffles, obviously just having come from the beach.

            “What did you do?” River asks, taking the girl’s hand as she reaches for it.

            “Come see!”

            “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she promises, laughing as they stumble down the steps together.

She can see the TARDIS parked on the sand, almost exactly where it landed the night he came. But she cannot see her husband. All the same, Charlotte makes them stop at the bottom of the stairs. River groans but suffers through the tingling sensation as Charlotte changes her into a matching two piece, only hers has a wrap skirt instead of Charlotte’s ruffled bottoms.

“I take it you had a fun day?” River asks as Charlotte nearly hauls her across the sand, headed around the bend of the cliff face a ways down the beach.

“It was great,” Charlotte enthuses as they slip and slide their way through the sand. “We went to the Hundred Acre Wood. You should have seen it! Daddy and Tigger bounced around for an hour.”

“I’m sure they did,” River says, speaking around the slight lump in her throat at Charlotte’s easy proclamation of “daddy.”

“Daddy!” Charlotte calls out.

The Doctor pops out around the jutting edge of the cliff a moment later. He grins at River, wiping his hair out of his eyes with the back of his wrist, his arms and torso covered with sand. His blue swim trunks are nearly caked with it and she can’t fight her smile when she realizes Charlotte has made them all match.

“Now, I won’t cover your eyes, or I’ll blind you. But you have to close them,” he offers by way of greeting.

River sighs but oblidges, letting them each take one of her hands to lead her around onto the next section of beach. Charlotte nearly vibrates beside her, and the Doctor isn’t much better. Whatever it is, they’ve worked very hard to make it happen.

“Are you ready to see the incredible?” the Doctor prompts.

“The truly spectacular,” Charlotte adds.

“The magnificent,” the Doctor shoots back.

“The stupendous.”

“The collosal.”

“Yes!” River cuts in with a laugh. “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Charlotte says seriously. “Open your eyes.”

River blinks her eyes open, squinting slightly in the suddenly bright sunlight. She gasps a moment later.

A TARDIS. They built a complete, life-size sand TARDIS.

“Oh, my,” she gets out as they drag her toward it, marching her around so she can see how perfect it is. “This is brilliant.”

“Isn’t it?” the Doctor squeaks. “All Charlie’s idea.”

“Was it now?” River wonders, looking down at her daughter, who looks both exceedingly proud and shy at the same time. “This is amazing.”

She reaches out and presses her palm gingerly to the sandy wall. She grins at her husband and he beams back, childish delight all over his face. It is seriously impressive, and she wonders idly how they managed to make it so tall, with the light on top and everything.

“Special sand,” he offers, startling her so she slips, distracted by Charlotte running around and…taking pictures.

“Did you just make that camera?” River calls out. Charlotte shrugs guiltily and sprints around the sand TARDIS. “Just because I can’t see you doesn’t make it alright!”

The Doctor chuckles and wraps his arms around her midrif. “She’s just fine.”

“And how special is the sand, exactly?” River asks.

“Oi, I watched her do it, and made her rest and have a snack. I’m repsonsible.”

River pats his hands and nods, intentionally getting her hair in his face. He huffs but doesn’t comment. Instead, he squeezes her stomach and lifts her off her feet. River squeals and tries to fight him, but he is surprisingly strong, and she can’t get a good enough position to get out of his grip before he’s tossing her into the water.

She comes up spluttering to find both of them standing at the edge of the shore, laughing at her. She growls and swims toward them, hitting the sand with dedicated feet. Charlotte shrieks and tries to dash off but the Doctor hasn’t lived so long for nothing. Obviously deciding that teaming up on Charlotte will spare him some pain—stupid man—he nabs her before she can get very far, and together they toss her into the ocean.

She pops up with a grin, and while the Doctor is busy watching her, River kicks his feet out from under him, catches his fall, and flings him as far as she can. Charlotte giggles and River dives into the water before the Doctor can get his footing to retaliate.

They spend what seems like hours tossing each other in the waves, which eventually devolves into River and the Doctor tossing Charlotte as high as they can while she yells and shouts with laughter. Eventually, Charlotte starts yawning and they make their way back up the beach, leaving the sand TARDIS behind.

Charlotte rides on the Doctor’s back, her head lolling on his shoulder as she attempts to keep talking, babbling about their day and how much fun they had. As they near the stairs, the Doctor takes off at a run, spinning around as Charlotte laughs and clings to his neck, both of them bright and flushed.

River follows slowly, dragging her feet in the sand as a light breeze whips up the beach. She hears the light hum of the TARDIS ahead of them, mixing with the lapping of the waves, and she finds herself coming to a stop to stare out at the ocean, her husband and daughter’s voices fading a little ahead of her.

It’s peaceful across the water, and she feels it seep through her as well. A deep contentment settles in her bones, growing deeper with every smile and giggle and moment as they collect in eternity around her. She never asked for her life to become this, to end with this, but she is so pleased, so lucky, to have it now.

“River,” the Doctor calls, breaking her from her thoughts. “Dinner?”

River turns and looks toward her husband and daughter as they hover at the bottom of the steps, Charlotte grinning at her over her father’s shoulder. River makes her way to them and takes her husband’s hand as he extends it to her.

“Did you know that there’s a planet where all of the food is blue?” he asks Charlotte as they start to climb up the stairs, which widen to accommodate both of them.

“No,” Charlotte tells him, studiously avoiding River’s eyes.

“It’s very cool,” the Doctor informs her. “Maybe we can find a cookbook and go in there tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Charlotte agrees. “Sound good, mummy?”

“Sounds like a perfect day to me,” River tells her as she reaches up to smooth a lock of hair off of her face.

Charlotte smiles and blows her a kiss before she closes her eyes and presses her face into her father’s shoulder.

River watches and smiles, looking forward to their next adventure. The Doctor’s hand squeezes hers and he meets her eyes as they reach the top of the stairs. Tomorrow will be perfect, and all the tomorrow’s after that. They still have so much running to do.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Complete.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.


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